To Find the Way Home
by sailoranime
Summary: Harry has been living with his godfather Matt since his parents died. What happens when he sees it is a lie? Can Harry establish a relationship with those who were stolen from him? And is he safe from Voldemort, who is again becoming a threat to the world
1. An Azkaban Breakout and A Lie

It was a hot, muggy day that found Remus Lupin walking through the extremely overgrown garden of a dilapidated house outside of muggle London, thinking longingly of his own ramshackle residence clear on the other side of town.

Remus' condition had always made life hard despite the fact that he was a fully trained wizard. Fear of anything that was different from themselves was prevalent among wizards, so Remus often found himself suddenly without work or shelter when someone caught on to his illness, much like his landlord who had suddenly confronted him about his absences on the full moon.

Knowing that he could not afford for it to happen again, Remus had let his landlord in on a little secret: that he, Remus Lupin, hunted werewolves every full moon. The old man had been very impressed and from then on delighted in seeking Remus out after the full moon and saying, "You look a mess, Rem… I bet you caught one last night!"

And so it had gone for several months until Remus found himself out of a job yet again and mentioned to his landlord the need to move. The old man had been understanding and put Remus in contact with a cousin of his who dealt in the restoration of abandoned properties. Though Remus had been doubtful of any employment they could offer him, he had been relieved to find out that he would be working freelance for Mr. Randal's cousin, doing a preliminary walkthrough of old buildings and taking care of any nasty creatures he would encounter, as they were constantly halting progress.

Remus had taken the job for lack of better prospects, but soon found that business flourished and provided a steady income. The job was flexible enough to allow Remus to take on other odd jobs if need be, and new projects were mysteriously never scheduled to start around the full moon, so Remus had those necessary days free.

Remus was doing so well that he had finally managed to acquire a small house at the very edge of the woods, where he lived pleasantly. And though Remus was more than pleased at finally having something that resembled steady work, he had received an owl from Dumbledore at dawn requesting they meet that very day and Remus was anxious to find out what could what could be so important that the headmaster demanded such haste.

A less than diligent search of the garden revealed no threats to Remus, who considered his work finished and promptly Apparated to his own backyard. He rushed into the house to change for his meeting with Dumbledore, but was surprised to find the headmaster already waiting for him inside.

Sitting calmly on the couch and looking quite at home was Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, wearing robes in a subdued shade of maroon and a grave expression.

Remus did not bother to greet him, instead heading to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea. Once served, he carried both cups and saucers to the kitchen table where Dumbledore had settled into a seat.

"I know you must be wondering what brings me here, Remus."

Remus nodded. "I know it must be something significant."

"I am afraid it is, and it is not good news." Dumbledore handed Remus a newspaper and added sugar to his tea as Remus read it.

Emotions flickered on Remus' countenance, ranging from sorrow, to anger, and perhaps even a hint of defeat. He closed his eyes for a minute, sighed heavily, and looked at the newspaper in his hand, then at the old man now standing in front of his kitchen table.

"So this is it?" Remus asked quietly.

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm afraid the Ministry has lost all hope of finding him," he replied. "We have had five years of relative peace, without even a hint of Voldemort and now Fudge is ready to honour Harry's memory and simply move on. I believe this is why they have officially called off the search."

Remus set the newspaper down next to his now forgotten mug. "But you, of course, are still searching? You haven't given up?" the young man spoke so quietly that Dumbledore almost missed his question.

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "No. I have not stopped searching. But you have to admit, Remus, it has been five years and we are no closer than we have ever been."

Remus nodded. "I know it's been five years, but I suppose one never loses hope..."

Both men sat in a silence for a few minutes, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Dumbledore cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but Remus lifted his head unexpectedly and was looking at Dumbledore with a peculiar expression on his face.

"What do you believe?" The question was sudden, though the interruption had not been meant to be rude. Remus thought Dumbledore looked slightly surprised, but if it was so, he quickly hid it.

"I believe in a lot of things, Remus. You have to be more specific." As old as he was, Dumbledore held Remus' gaze steadily.

"Do you have any hope at all that he is alive? Do you believe there is a chance…?" Remus did not need to complete his train of thought. He was almost staring at Dumbledore now, something like urgency lurking in his eyes.

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh and took a seat once more. "I can find no other explanation for Harry's disappearance other than that which we know is most likely. I believe that he was indeed taken by Voldemort's followers, and though we know Death Eaters to be cruel and not above harming a mere child, they are also clever and cunning and would be more likely to use him for gain."

"But if they had something planned for Harry, wouldn't they have set their plan in motion by now?" Remus asked.

Dumbledore considered this for a moment. "Without knowledge of the plan, we can do nothing more than make an educated guess. The lack of dark activity directly related to Voldemort tells us that whatever their plan is, it likely has not succeeded, and considering Voldemort's particular interest in Harry, I do not think the plan was to kill him, much less so discretely. No, this was carefully orchestrated by someone close to Voldemort, if not by Voldemort himself before his downfall.

"We have seen the rash actions of those who followed him and were left with nothing, and if Harry had been in their hands, we would have seen the tragic result by now. I am optimistic that this lack of closure is a good sign that Harry is still alive and whoever has him is doing a very good job of hiding him. Perhaps now that the search has ended they will let their guard down, and become careless."

Remus gave small nod and his face was impassive once again. "That's always a possibility, I suppose," he began quietly. He sat there silently for a few seconds before speaking again. His voice was hesitant and he refused to meet the Headmaster's eyes. "Do you think... is it possible that Sirius was the one who took Harry?"

Dumbledore replied with a slight shake of his head. "Don't you think if Black knew where Harry was, he would have tried to make a deal with the Ministry by now?"

Remus nodded. "Of course. Unless he…" Remus trailed off as he glanced at his old teacher and noted the sad expression on his face. "You don't still blame yourself, do you?" he asked with a frown.

Dumbledore gave him a sad half-smile. "Who else is there to blame? Young Harry's kidnapping that night was entirely my fault. I failed to protect the Potters and Harry."

"There was no way you could have known." Remus answered quietly. Dumbledore shook his head.

"No... I suspected that we had a spy among us, of course, but..." he trailed off, and Remus winced when he realized just how old and tired Dumbledore looked. "Well, the time has come for me to leave. I merely felt that it was best if you heard the news from me. If you'll excuse me, I do need to return to Hogwarts."

"Of course... Thank you for coming by. Will you let me know if..." he hesitated for a moment, "...if anything comes up?"

Dumbledore nodded and moved towards the fireplace. Remus did not bother to accompany him. The light in the living room flared a brilliant green, and illuminated the kitchen slightly. Remus, sure that Dumbledore was gone, picked up his mug and in a surprising show of frustration, threw it against the wall. Then slowly, as if nothing had happened, he stood up and moved towards the wall, occupying himself with cleaning up the mess by hand.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Sirius Black watched drops of water fall from the ceiling of his darkened cell onto his stone floor. He started counting before long, wondering just how much water fell into his cell on a daily basis. And, was it possible, that on a particularly rainy day the water would fill his cell completely?

_'One... two... three... four...five.'_ he counted in his head.

There was a story he vaguely remembered. Greek mythology, he was certain, about a girl who was forced to carry water from a well in a leaky jug. Or was it a pair of girls? He thought they may have been sisters. Come to think of it, had there not been more than two? Or were they trying to fill the well with a leaky jug?

Had he, Sirius, angered some Greek deity who had thus sentenced him to the same fate? Was his punishment to sit in a cell that would never fill, like the water jug, and await the day water would finally replace the air and let his soul find peace? As quickly as the thought had come, however, it had gone. It was a while before sleep came in its stead.

_'...Nine... ten...eleven-'_.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Sirius woke up disoriented and unsure of the time; his cell was as dark as ever. He closed his eyes again, but he knew sleep would not come. A pity, really, since it was the only thing that passed the time. With a heavy sigh, Sirius sat up and leaned against the wall. There was no water dripping into his cell, so he was left without his usual form of entertainment. He would not, however, allow himself to think. Thinking was the worst possible way to pass the time in Azkaban. Any positive emotion that came from it was quickly taken away, and every mistake and negative feeling was amplified.

Sirius turned his attention to the countless marks on the wall. He had made some himself in the beginning, in an attempt to not lose track of time. It had been a waste, however, as the days quickly blended together in a haze of guilt when he was awake, and nightmares when he slept. Many others had occupied the cell before, he knew. There were many other scratches on the walls, mixing with his to create a grotesque work of art that would have been right at home in his mother's house. Counting them would not by any means give him a precise account of his time there, so instead he looked for figures and shapes in the scratches, like a morbid parody of the games he had played as a child, staring at the clouds in the sky.

Sirius tried to ignore the bitterness swelling up in him as he remembered how he had dutifully gotten up each morning and made his mark on the furthest wall until he had realized that what he often counted as three nights had only been one long, unending day. And Sirius stopped counting then. He quickly lost interest in reminiscing as well and slowly but surely, depressing thoughts were finding their way into his head. Sleep sometimes offered relief, taking him back to the street where he had cornered the rat that day and-

Sirius recalled his dreams with a shudder; the last few dreams had not taken any turns in his favour. He groaned in frustration and slammed his head against the wall. "Quit it," Sirius muttered to himself. The thoughts seemed to keep coming, however. He slammed his head against the wall again. "_Quit it_."

In a merciful twist of fate, this daily torture was interrupted by what he could almost swear were two men's voices. At once Sirius realized the prison had been un-naturally quiet. He could hear footsteps approaching and pieces of their conversation become clearer.

"...true…called off?" A male voice asked softly.

A second man spoke, "...afraid so…five years...no choice. We have no hope."

Sirius strained his ears to listen, unsure of who the speaker was and why he would be taking a casual stroll through Azkaban. He knew that the ministry conducted inspections periodically, though he could not remember ever witnessing one himself. It would most definitely explain why his neighbours were all being so quiet. Sirius could not be sure, as he had been sleeping himself, but he was willing to wager half of them had been stunned.

"Sad state of affairs... lost... shame." the first voice was saying.

Sirius felt the air in his cell get colder as the voices came closer. These men the voices belonged to were, no doubt, accompanied by Dementors.

"Yes, sad, indeed." The second voice sounded familiar, almost like someone Sirius had met in another life… "Azkaban," the voice continued, "I hate it."

Sirius laughed bitterly, though he hardly realized it at first. The sound had been sudden and muffled, and quite unrecognizable. The footsteps stopped for a second, but resumed when nothing else was heard. It was not long before the men reached his cell, and Sirius was able to recognize the second man as Cornelius Fudge.

Fudge glanced inside the cell briefly, and did a double take when he realized Sirius was awake and looking at him with a faintly curious expression. Fudge faltered for a second and his eyes widened slightly but he turned suddenly and made to keep moving.

"Good morning, Fudge." Sirius managed to choke out raspily. The words had the desired effect; Fudge stopped.

"How dare you address the minister like that?" The first man spoke angrily.

Sirius, perhaps attempting and failing to look impressed, gave Fudge a rather mocking look and said, "Pardon my manners, _Minister_."

Ignoring the taunt, Fudge muttered with disgust, "Sirius Black...Still sane?"

"Just barely, I think."

Fudge looked at a loss for words. He turned to his companion as if for strength and said, "There's nothing good about this morning, Black. Why, it's not even morning… I would say it's nearly nightfall."

Sirius Black shrugged. "My mistake, of course. You can never really tell time in here..."

Silence followed Sirius' statement, and Fudge made to keep moving, but Black spoke again.

"Anything interesting, besides the crossword?" Sirius asked motioning to the rolled up newspaper Fudge was nervously squeezing.

The Minister's desire to run out of the building had almost doubled during their brief conversation, but he knew he must complete his tour of the prison. He absolutely refused to be anywhere near Azkaban when night fell, and standing there talking to a mass murderer would not speed matters up at all.

Without even glancing at the newspaper, Fudge folded it in half through the bars and tossed it at Sirius, who caught it easily. "Read for yourself," Fudge muttered in frustration, and kept walking.

Sirius watched the two men walk away and waited for their footsteps to fade, though he thought he could still hear the echo of angry voices. He felt as if the newspaper was burning in his hand, the only link he might ever have to the outside. Looking around the cell desperately, he unfolded it hesitantly.

Did he really want to know what was going on in the outside world?

Contemplating that maybe he had always been a masochist at heart, Sirius Black stretched out the newspaper in front of him. He quickly regretted it, however, as he almost choked at the picture on the front page. It was a picture of young Harry Potter, standing by a coffee table, smiling and looking up at the camera curiously. Sirius had taken that picture, if his memory was correct; Harry had been only a baby, taking his first steps. Sirius moved his eyes to the headline, a feeling of dread creeping up on him.

_**Search for The Boy Who Lived Officially Terminated**_

Sirius' eyes widened in shock. Had something happened to Harry? He moved closer to the cell door in search of more light to read, held up the newspaper as close as he could to the torch outside his cell, and began to read.

_It seems that after almost five years of searching for Harry Potter, the Ministry has finally had enough. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, announced only last night that he was officially ending the search for the missing boy. "It's been five years, you know," a very flustered Fudge told reporters, "If we had any hope... What I mean is, we have been looking for him for almost five years, and we haven't found a single trace of him. Or anything to suggest that he's even... you know, alive."_

_Harry Potter, who managed to defeat the most powerful dark wizard this century when he was only a baby, disappeared the same night that his parents died. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School, had the child picked up from the ruins of the Potter home that same night and delivered to the boy's only surviving relatives, a muggle aunt and uncle. The muggles, however, claim to have no knowledge of the child's whereabouts, insisting instead that he never arrived at their home._

_The entire affair was highly embarrassing for the Headmaster, and he has presumably been searching for the boy endlessly since the discovery that he had gone missing. There is nothing for the Ministry to go on. No witnesses or clues to his whereabouts have surfaced in the past five years. "It's as if the boy just vanished into thin air!" The Minister exclaimed when asked why there had been no result from their search._

_The Ministry of Magic has announced its intention to hold a public ceremony in honour of Harry Potter, though the exact location has yet to be decided. Early reports, however, state it will be held on Halloween, the anniversary of his disappearance._

Sirius folded up the newspaper and threw it against the cell's wall, feeling repulsed by it. His heart was racing, and he knew the Dementors were slowly working their way over to his cell. He had to calm down.

_'Calm down,'_ Sirius thought bitterly, _'how can I?'_

It was all Dumbledore's fault. Hagrid had told Sirius that Dumbledore would take care of Harry, so Sirius had gone off and chased little Peter, thinking Harry was safe. But Harry had not been safe. Harry was gone...

Sirius looked up, noticing no less than six Dementors outside his cell. Drawn by his sudden burst of strength and unyielding fury, the Dementors were now gathering outside his cell. It was obscene, how they managed to convey excitement with no voice or visible face. Without thinking, he jumped to his feet and threw at the Dementors the remains of a questionable substance that had been his dinner. Absently noting that he had hit the front three, he then finished his act of rebellion by kicking out blindly through the bars in his cell. Sirius' foot made contact only three times before he felt it being detained and he threw the newspaper at the offending Dementor, who let him go.

Sirius then threw himself on his battered cot, breathing heavily. The Dementors were certainly angry, and the little bit of satisfaction he had gotten out of the whole ordeal was vanishing quickly. But what was the worse they could do to him? Other than keeping a closer watch on him and making his life more miserable than usual, they were powerless.

A brief moment of confusion gave way to panic as Sirius realized that the Dementors would not be content with letting the matter go. Sirius's eyes widened as his cell door opened; The Dementors seemed to be growing excited as one slowly glided towards the open door, reaching up with one hand to grasp its hood while the other hand stretched out toward Sirius.

Sirius Black was rarely an idiot. He looked around, terrified. Finally, his eyes fell on the still open door. In a split second, he transformed into a shaggy black dog and ran out of the cell with as much speed as he could muster. Dementors, Sirius knew, did not have eyes. Nevertheless, they quickly caught on to the fact that their target was different, but still escaping them. The second their confusion had given Sirius, however, had made all the difference.

Sirius did not know how many Dementors Azkaban housed, all he knew was that he was fortunate enough to not have found very many in his path. Some sensed he was coming, but he managed to avoid a collision with them at the last second, running on pure adrenaline and a refusal to give up. Sirius was not thinking of it as escaping Azkaban at all, which was perhaps the biggest irony of all.

Sirius did not know how long he had been running, or how he had managed it, but he made it out of the prison and ran straight off of the island and into the cold water...


	2. An Abundance of Questions

Six year old Harry sat at the kitchen table in his footie pyjamas and wrinkled his nose at the scrambled eggs in front of him. "Matt," he said glancing up at the man sitting across from him, "I think you burnt them."

"Make yourself some toast, then," Matt grunted in response, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper. Harry shrugged and walked to the pantry, where he took out 3 slices of bread. He set two of them in the toaster, and took out the jam and milk from the small fridge in the kitchen and set them down on the table. When the first two slices of toast were finally done, Harry took out a plate and placed them carefully on it. He then put the third slice in the toaster and carried the two others to Matt.

Harry always made three slices of toast; two for Matt, and one for him. This morning, however, Matt had woken up earlier than usual and had already made breakfast for both of them. Harry suspected that Matt had tried to make eggs for himself and had not liked them so he had just given them to Harry, but he was not about to say that.

Harry's slice popped out of the toaster soon enough and he quickly picked it up and set it down on the table. He ate his toast silently, as always, so he would not disturb Matt. Matt was Harry's godfather; he had been living with him for as long as he could remember.

Harry often got the feeling Matt did not really like him. Matt treated him okay, but he rarely went out of his way for Harry. He knew, of course, that Matt was doing a lot by letting him stay there, as Harry's parents were dead. Ever since he was five and could reach the toaster (with the help of a footstool, of course), Harry had made Matt breakfast and helped him around the house. As long as he was quiet and stayed out of the way, Matt was happy with him, which meant he would not kick him out.

"That's yesterday's newspaper, Matt," Harry said suddenly, as he recognized the man waving angrily on the cover. Matt frowned and looked at the date.

"No wonder. Go get me today's newspaper," Matt said, taking a bit out of his toast. Harry got up and walked to the living room. That was an odd thing about living with Matt. He always left a strange coin on the couch before going to bed, and the newspaper would always appear there the next morning. It was an odd newspaper too, often mentioning stuff about magic and other things that did not exist. Harry did not read well, despite his best efforts, and only knew this from the few times he had managed to peek at the headlines, as Matt never wanted to let him see it in detail.

Harry hurried back to the kitchen, his tiny feet making no noise on the floor. He handed the newspaper to Matt and jumped back up onto his chair. He wondered if he would ever be able to get on a chair without having to climb. Harry had barely taken a bite out of his toast, when he heard Matt slam down the newspaper. He seemed to be turning green, but before Harry could ask if he was okay, he pointed towards the bedrooms.

"Harry... your bedroom... now... close the door!" he managed to choke out before running off to the living room. Harry jumped out of his chair and ran towards his bedroom, not stopping to wonder what was going on.

It was only after he closed the door to his room that he realized he had not gotten to eat his breakfast. Finally deciding that Matt probably would not say anything if Harry ran out to get his toast, he slowly opened the door and ran back to the kitchen silently. He picked up his plate, but stopped at the sound of voices. The first one he recognized as Matt, but he had no idea who the other person was.

"Escaped? How? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It just happened yesterday, Matthew! I had no time. And I can't contact you, you know that!"

"Yes, I know. But you could have sent an owl!"

"I didn't know what time it might reach you. The boy-"

"Forget him! What about me? Sirius Black will skin me alive if he finds us!"

"There's no way he'll find you! We can't even be sure that he's not on our side-"

"I've told you before! I am certain that Black was not a spy for the Dark Lord."

"Whatever the case may be, Black has absolutely no reason to believe the boy is alive."

"Then why break out of Azkaban? They found the newspaper in his cell-"

"Then he probably went after Dumbledore! We don't know if the article was the reason he broke out in the first place."

Why else would he break out of Azkaban? I just don't understand how he did it!"

"No one knows. There was something with the Dementors... they got out of hand and tried to give him the Kiss, and he escaped somehow."

"Holy hell. How come the ferryman didn't see him?"

"It was the middle of the night, Matthew! He wasn't there! Let's just hope he gets caught soon, or our plan goes straight to hell! Do you know what will happen if he finds the boy? Just be careful. I have to go now, don't do anything stupid."

Harry had dropped his toast in surprise, and now quickly bent down to pick it up. He snuck closer to the living room, wondering who Matt had been talking to. To his great surprise, Matt was the only one in there. He stood by the fireplace, tossing some sort of powder inside the fire.

"Adam! I'm not done with you."

The fire seemed to turn green for a second, but nothing else happened. Matt glared at the fire, and threw one of the little ornaments across the room. Harry quickly straightened up and ran silently back to his room.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Awareness slowly trickled into Sirius, the first of it coming as the unpleasant sensation of being very cold. He shifted slightly and felt a second sensation, his wet robes sticking to him and doing nothing to alleviate his discomfort. Why, he wondered, was he so wet? Had it rained so hard his cell had really flooded?

Unwilling to wake up to such a dismal state of affairs, Sirius shut his eyes tightly to the song of a distant bird. He had been dreaming the most wonderful thing, and any hope of going back to sleep was disappearing as his eyelids were failing to shut out the unusual amount of light in his cell.

Sirius groaned at the numbness of his legs and attempted to draw them closer to his body. If only he could go back to sleep. He could still remember his dream, a vision of himself dashing through trees, running quite free and exhilarated until he had finally stopped at the edge of a lake to drink water and contemplate his large, shaggy reflection. And then something caught his attention so that he looked up and saw them, clear across the lake, a wolf and a stag waiting for him to join them. The three had then run together through the forest, had run for so long that Sirius had finally tired. Despite his barking protests, the other two had kept running. Left behind, Sirius had curled up at the base of a large tree and waited for them to come back for him.

Well, perhaps that last part had not been the best.

Nonetheless, Sirius smiled, and it was the strangeness of this action that finally brought him to full awareness. His cot was surprisingly soft and mushy, except for a knotted root sticking out and digging into his side. Sirius' bleary eyes opened to confirm this observation.

It was, indeed, a root. It was not, however, his cot.

As a matter of fact, he was curled up at the base of a very large tree, surrounded by even larger trees. His cot was actually a fair bit of mud, and he was not wearing robes at all, seeing as he was in dog form. The sun had not risen fully, and all he could hear was a faint wind rustling through the trees and an increasing amount of birds chirping.

Where was he?

Sirius stood up gingerly, shaking off the mud and wet leaves clinging to him as best as he could. Every inch of his body was sore, reassuring him that he had indeed woken up from his dream. What, then, was he doing in the middle of…?

Where _was_ he?

Had he died? The events of the previous night (_had_ it been the previous night?) were none too clear. Sirius had seen Fudge... he had talked to him. And then there had been a confrontation with the Dementors because… Sirius' blood ran cold. He had nearly been kissed. He had run, and evidently had not been caught. But had he made it off the island at all? Sirius could not remember there being any wooded areas around Azkaban.

But maybe the Dementors were just playing a sick game with him, hunting him down like their prey. Perhaps it would be best if he stayed in his Animagus form. Sirius' mind was shockingly clear for the first time in years, but so uncooperative at the same time. What had been so important that he had run with such urgency and risked a fate worse than death?

Contemplating that did nothing to distract Sirius from the fact that he was still wet and still very cold, but the sun's rays were beginning to caress his skin. Sirius felt in his soul that he was free; the sun was filling him with a warmth that made it impossible to think that there could be Dementors anywhere in England, much less within this small piece of heaven he had found. All that was missing now was for James to come out from behind the trees as he had in Sirius' dream, and-

But maybe it was another Potter altogether that would greet Sirius. His heart stopped as he finally remembered the small face that had stared up at him in his cell that night. Something had gone horribly wrong while he had been in Azkaban. Harry was dead.

Sirius shut his eyes, unable to erase from his mind the curious green eyes staring up at him, or the small first reaching up as if to touch him. He felt a whimper escape his throat as two words rushed back to him

_Presumed dead._

Sirius had replayed the events of that night a thousand times in his head. He had been on the edge of insanity for so long, he had dived into it headfirst and found comfort in it as he tried to drown in his sorrow. But anger and the need for vengeance had always pulled him back, never allowing him to go completely off the deep end.

He could never forget the exact moment, and the intensity, of that first hint of dread that told him he had made a terrible mistake. Such had been his panic that he had rushed to Godric's Hollow to see the Potters, so sure that he would not make it in time if he spared a moment to communicate with Dumbledore first.

But he had still been too late. Sirius had been greeted by the ruins of the house and, though he had not realized it until later, his life. How could it be that among such devastation, little Harry Potter had lived? In that rubble, Hagrid had found Harry.

Sirius had found his last chance at redemption.

A chance he had turned down. Hagrid had orders to take Harry to Dumbledore, which had been reasonable enough. Sirius knew there was only one person who could keep Harry safe better than he could, and that was Dumbledore. Sirius was Harry's godfather, but the situation was delicate and arrangements would have to be made before Sirius could take him. Dumbledore was the obvious man for the job. In Sirius's mind, this conveniently freed up his night to find Peter and shred him to pieces.

Sirius has spent the past five years regretting this decision, well aware that it had been a mistake. But he had never suspected the magnitude of it; never known the true consequences of his folly.

Harry Potter, the article had stated, had disappeared after Dumbledore had deposited him on his aunt and uncle's front doorstep. Dumbledore. What had the old fool been thinking?

And what about Lily's sister? Had she perhaps woken up to find Harry on her doorstep one morning, only to drop him off at an orphanage the next day? Or had she woken up and found nothing but the newspaper and the milk bottles and gone about her business as usual?

What Sirius needed was answers. His hot-headed nature demanded revenge, but he simply could not accept that Harry could be dead. After everything that had happened, the universe had to take pity on him and make at least one thing right for Sirius.

Sirius had been condemned without a trial; the whole wizarding world believing him a traitor and a Death Eater. To waltz up to Dumbledore and demand answers was ludicrous; revenge was unthinkable. At his best, Sirius knew he would never be a match for Albus Dumbledore, even in his old age. Sirius would be a fool to approach Dumbledore, especially without proof.

As it was, Sirius was not sure he would ever forgive Dumbledore.

Sirius had been a fool before, when he chased after Peter instead of accompanying Hagrid back to Dumbledore. He could not make any mistakes now.

There was no proof that Harry was dead; he was only missing. Fudge was ready to pronounce Harry dead and move on, but Sirius could not. If he was truly free, he was going to dedicate all of his energy into finding out what had happened that night. Given that five years of searching had not produced a single clue for the Ministry, or even for Dumbledore, Sirius knew his odds were almost nonexistent.

His mind was racing, almost unable to handle the striking clarity of everything that was happening. It was almost as if his brain was not keen on remembering how to work. He needed help; he needed somewhere to start…

Sirius had to find Remus. He had to convince Remus that he was innocent, and then they would both look for Harry.

The thought was gone as quickly as it came, and Sirius almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Remus would kill Sirius if he ever set eyes on him.

Sirius was alone with the shattering reality of being a fugitive in a world that hated him; a world he no longer belonged to. But the worst was in knowing he would always be this alone and empty, because deep down, he felt that this tragedy, on top of everything else, was going to drive him deeper into despair than he had ever been. Sirius could not see a more fitting end to his own story, and for something to finally go right, like Harry being alive, meant a happiness that Sirius simply did not deserve.

No, it made sense that Harry was dead. All Sirius could do for now was try to find the answers that would let him achieve at least some peace. The only thing he could possibly do was pay a visit to the muggles that Dumbledore had entrusted Harry to.

Sirius would need a wand, of course. Seeing as he could not just go to Diagon alley and buy one, he would have to steal one. Getting close enough to a wizard, however, was a risk in itself.

Then again, he could borrow one. Sirius shuddered at the thought of setting foot in his mother's house, but it was perhaps the safest option; Sirius knew the old hag kept his father's wand in a glass cabinet in the drawing room. He was certain that his mother would turn him over to the ministry if she caught him, but he felt his chances were good, assuming he was able to figure out where he was and how to get to Grimmauld Place.

He would risk it; he had to. Sirius would not get anywhere in his search without a wand.

And finally Sirius Black had, if nothing else, a purpose.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Harry scrambled out of his seat just in time to avoid something brown and furry hitting him in the head. Matt jumped up from the table, knocking his toast off the table by accident. Harry stared as the bird landed on the table and held its leg out to Matt. Tied to its leg was a rolled-up piece of paper. Harry looked at the owl curiously and was about to feed it a bit of toast when Matt suddenly remembered he was there.

"Go to your room," Matt snapped. He then untied the paper from the owl's leg and spread it out on the table in front of him.

On his way to his room, Harry managed to catch a glimpse of Matt taking some powder from the little bowl on top of the fireplace. Harry closed the door to his room, and jumped onto his bed. Why was Matt acting so strange? Something must have happened, because for the past few days Matt had been ordering him to his room every once in a while, telling him not to come out unless he was called.

Matt never paid any attention to him, which Harry had always thought was rather unfair. Only the week before, everything had been much more relaxed. Matt had been in a good mood, and had even taken Harry when he had gone to meet someone at one of the cafes around their house. It had been a quick meeting, but Harry had gotten a scone out of it.

But ever since the morning Harry first heard him talking by the fireplace, Matt had started acting like he was afraid he, Harry, would be seen. He had even refused to let him go to the park across the street, something Harry did almost every day. It had bothered him for as long as he could remember that Matt seemed almost unaware of his existence. Harry had wished, at times, that Matt would be nicer and pay him more attention. But now that he _was_ paying more attention to him, Harry realized he did not quite want it.

Only one other time had Matt punished him by not letting him go to the park. Months before, Harry had made a friend at the park and one day gone home with him. The boy had told him to come over to his house so they could have a snack and grab a few toys to bring back with them, and Harry had agreed.

Once there, they had eaten some pie and instead stayed to watch the 'telly', something Harry had never even seen before. Robbie, who had been about two years older than him, laughed and then showed Harry a radio and explained to him how it worked as best as he could. Harry had lost track of time, watching television and eating crisps, and had not returned until almost sundown.

Matt had been furious and had sent Harry to his room without supper, telling him he would never be allowed to go to the park again. He had taken it back later, but had warned Harry not to do it again, and had strictly forbidden him to speak to anyone at the park, much less make more friends.

Harry moved over to the foot of his bed and looked at the park from his window. It was still rather early, so there was almost no one there. The kids would not start coming out until after noon. They really did not do Harry any good, anyway. Even though Matt had allowed him to roam the park unsupervised after the incident with the older boy, Harry had not forgotten his warning. Although he sometimes enjoyed listening to their conversations and trying to figure out the games they played, he always avoided getting too close to them. None of them bothered with him anymore. And on the rare occasion that someone tried to talk to him, Harry had to politely tell them he was not allowed to talk to them.

Harry was about to change out of his pyjamas, when he heard Matt's voice coming from the living room. "Harry. Come out and finish your breakfast."

Harry jumped off of his bed, and walked back to the kitchen just in time to see Matt burn the paper from earlier and then pour the rest of the ashes down the drain. "Do you want me to go get you the paper?"

Matt shook his head. "I already got it. Nothing interesting today," he sounded relieved. Harry seized the opportunity.

"So do you think I can go to the park today?"

Matt's face froze for a second and he glanced at the newspaper with a frown. "Yeah, I guess it'll be fine," he answered finally.

Matt stood up and walked to his room, and Harry heard the faint click of Matt's bedroom door closing. Harry got up from his chair and walked towards Matt's side of the table. The newspaper laid there, the front page facing up.

_**Black Spotted By Muggles**_

Harry wondered what Muggles were. He had seen the word before, and had heard Matt say it, but its meaning was not very clear to him. Harry assumed it was people of some sort; bad people Matt did not like, because he always seemed angry when he said it. Sometimes it would be on the headline of the newspaper, so Harry assumed they did bad things often.

In this particular article, Harry recognized the names of a couple of places he had heard of before, too. He knew nothing about them, but he guessed they were probably far away. Maybe the muggles were slowly taking over other countries and making their way to England.

Harry finished his toast and cleared the table, eager to get back to his room. He had not been allowed to go the park for a couple of days, and he had realized just how boring it was at home. There was never anything to do at Matt's house. There was no television, and there was no radio either. They seemed to have no real connection to the outside world.

After making sure that the kitchen was as neat as he had found it, Harry went back to his room to change. In less than ten minutes he has ready and on his way to the door. It was a very short walk to the park, since it was almost directly across the street. Crossing the street was rather tricky, though, because Harry had to do it when there were no cars coming. It was not yet noon, so there were only two or three kids in the park, and he quickly crossed the two lanes and reached the sidewalk. One girl with a ponytail glanced at Harry as he entered the park and then turned back to the other two kids she was with.

Harry ignored them, and made his way over to the pond, a slice of bread in his pocket for the ducks. He had seen some elderly people feeding them bread, so he figured it was alright.

Harry sat in his usual spot by the edge and took out the bread. He glanced at the spot where the group of kids had been, and noticed they were gone. Shrugging it off, he began to feed the ducks. He had nearly fed them the whole slice when a shadow fell over him.

Harry turned to see the kids from earlier standing behind him. The girl with the ponytail was wearing a pink skirt and a white blouse. Harry noticed she was wearing very shiny shoes and was probably a lot older than he was. On her right was a boy who looked about Harry's own age, wearing shorts and a green shirt. On her left was another girl who also seemed to be about the same age as the boy. She was wearing light blue shorts and a pink blouse with white shoes.

Harry looked down at his own blue pants and red shirt, feeling particularly shabby. Matt had not bought Harry any clothes in about a year because he had not grown much, but Matt had not considered just how worn all of Harry's clothes were.

Harry looked up the girl, slightly surprised. She smiled rather nervously and made to push a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

"Can we sit here?" she asked, looking determined to sit there, regardless of what his answer was.

Harry lowered his gaze. "Go ahead. I don't really mind," he answered, finally deciding he would just avoid talking to her. If she tried to talk to him, he could just walk away.

The girl sat down and made some sort of hand motion and the others kids followed instantly. "We were just wondering something, and we wanted to ask-"

"Why won't you talk to anyone?" the little boy blurted out, interrupting the girl.

She glared at her companion and turned back to Harry. "Well, yeah. That's what we were wondering, really." she said, somewhat resigned.

Harry glanced at the house, making sure Matt was not watching them. The last thing he needed was to do something wrong after Matt had finally let him out again. Harry did not even know what he had done wrong in the first place.

"Well," Harry began, looking at the girl somewhat apologetically, "Matt doesn't let me. He says to be careful because there are bad people out here."

The girl looked at him strangely. "But we're only kids!" she exclaimed, seeming somewhat offended.

Harry shrugged and refused to meet her gaze.

"Well, Matt said he won't let me come anymore if I talk to anyone. I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude," Harry answered finally.

The girl with the shiny shoes finally stood up and the other two kids followed.

"Well, tell Matt that I think he's a big, fat, ugly meanie!" she snapped and stomped away with her friends.

Harry had to agree at least a little.


	3. A Long Wait

The days following Sirius' escape from Azkaban were surprisingly calm and Sirius had found it was relatively easy to travel. He had explored the forest pretty quickly and found a way out, but had only wandered far enough into the nearby town to confirm that it was largely a muggle settlement. Dementors, if any had been sent out, would be concentrated around wizarding communities. Sirius had no clear memory of how he had made it off the island and back on land, much less how far he had traveled.

After making a less than pleasant meal of someone's garbage, he had hurried back to the forest to wait for night to fall, the time when it would be safest to travel.

A quick dip in the lake had done wonders for his appearance, and no sooner than the sun had set, Sirius had headed out in search of something, a landmark at least so he could know where he was.

Sirius had traveled north for almost a day, and still had no idea where he was. He had, however, spotted several posters with his picture on them in one of the larger muggle towns and took heart in seeing that there was no mention of his Animagus form. Sirius knew that the ministry could not very well put that information on muggle posters even if they had it, but he felt optimistic that they had not yet found it out themselves.

Once Sirius felt that he had not seen his likeness for a while, he decided to take a chance on nicking himself a map. He had been spotted in the process, but his acquisition of the map proved useful, as he had been heading in quite the wrong direction.

Well aware that he had lost valuable time, Sirius had begun traveling during the day when possible. For the most part, people thought he was a stray, and they stayed away, frightened by his sheer size.

The highlight of his trip had been running into a lone woodsman who had caught some particularly choice game that day and roasted it over a fire by his cabin. The man (quite huge himself) had not been afraid of Sirius' dog form at all and had shared the feast with him. For a few hours they sat by the fire, keeping each other company, and Sirius was loath to leave even after the woodsman had gone inside for the night, leaving out an old blanket for Sirius to sleep on .

The journey, though long, had been uneventful. Sirius took advantage of the last muggle town before reaching London to procure his meal for the day, knocking over a boy holding a bread basket and running off with a huge loaf of bread.

Sirius then hid until nightfall. He knew it was best to take cover for the moment; a dog of his size would not blend very well in London. A dark alley next to an abandoned building in the outskirts of the city served well as a spot for Sirius to transform back into his human self. He ate the pilfered loaf of bread as slowly as possible.

Now that he was so close, Sirius dreaded reaching his mother's house. He would have to sneak in somehow without the old hag spotting him. If their old house elf had not been so devoted to his mother, Sirius would have ordered him to get the wand and have been done with it. But he was certain Kreacher would find a way to warn her before Sirius had time to run.

Under the cover of night and once again transformed, Sirius stole through the streets and finally reached the place he had hoped never to see again. He felt a growl escaped his throat when he finally laid eyes on it.

Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Sirius walked resolutely up to the front door. The door was slightly ajar, and Sirius sniffed around a bit before pushing it open with his nose. Wizards were not known for locking doors, since they had wards and other ways of protecting themselves. Anyone who was a threat to them clearly had to have magic, and anyone with magic would hardly be stopped by locks. It was still rather unusual for the door to be open, however.

Sirius walked in warily and attempted to make his way over to the drawing room, but stopped when he heard a gasp of surprise. He whirled around and saw Kreacher standing by the front door, apparently having just re-entered. What the elf was doing outside, Sirius could not fathom.

"There is an animal in the house of Kreacher's mistress. Kreacher thinks it is not a regular animal, but Kreacher does not care. Kreacher will get rid of it."

The ugly elf moved forward slowly and cautiously. It raised its hands and Sirius, remembering at the last minute that house-elves had magic of their own, moved out of the way. Kreacher was certainly not above attacking him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Sirius realized the irony of a house elf being more powerful than he was.

Seeing no other way out, Sirius transformed back to his human form. Kreacher jumped back in what Sirius suspected was a feigned show of surprise.

"Kreacher did not know it was master. Kreacher did not mean to attack master," he said instantly, looking at Sirius tearfully and bowing his head.

Sirius said nothing at first, aware that Kreacher had suspected his true identity. The house elf simply stared at him with narrowed eyes and Sirius felt the need to say something. Being nice seemed to be his best option.

"There was no way you could have known," Sirius growled.

"Master is too kind to Kreacher," the elf responded, still staring at Sirius shrewdly.

Sirius nodded. "Where is my... lovely mother, Kreacher?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as low as possible.

The elf looked down sadly, this time with real tears in its great eyes.

"Master has come to see his mother. No matter how much she hated him, he's come to see her... Kreacher is touched. Master must not get much news in Azkaban, sir. Kreacher assumes Master heard of his mother being sick?"

"Er... yes. I heard, and I knew it was my duty to come."

"Kreacher is very touched. Master has escaped Azkaban to see Kreacher's mistress in her time of need, no matter how much she hated him."

Sirius had to resist the urge to laugh, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Some ties go deeper than that, Kreacher," he finally said. "She is my mother, and I could never hate her, even if she hated me because I was… such a horrible son."

Sirius knew the way to get to the elf was through his mother, Mrs. Black. Kreacher would set his hate for Sirius aside for at least a few minutes if Sirius played his cards right.

"Kreacher is sorry Master cannot see my Mistress. More sorry that she cannot see him coming back, groveling for her forgiveness."

"Why can't I see her, Kreacher? I don't know what will happen if I can't get her forgiveness."

There it was again, that irrational urge to laugh.

The elf looked down at the carpet and burst into tears. "Master cannot see Mistress because Master is too late. Kreacher's beloved Mistress has already passed away."

Sirius stood there, stunned for a second.

"Well, that changes everything, then," Sirius finally responded, moving towards the drawing room to get the wand. "There's no one in the house, then?"

"Kreacher is alone here, Master. Where is Master going?"

Sirius almost felt guilty for lying to the elf, who had obviously loved his mother very much.

At least someone had.

He could not bring himself to tell Kreacher the truth. "Where is she buried, Kreacher? With the rest of the family?"

"Yes, mistress is with the Noble Blacks. Somewhere Master will never be!"

Sirius only hoped Kreacher was right. Before the elf could protest, Sirius had opened the cabinet and retrieved the wand. "Kreacher, I'm going to go visit my mother's grave, don't tell anyone I was here if they stop by."

"Is master coming back?" Kreacher asked as his eyes narrowed again.

The question alarmed Sirius but he nodded, keeping a straight face. "Yes. I'll be coming back in a couple of days. Meanwhile, I absolutely forbid you to leave this house, contact anybody outside of it, or reveal to anyone that I have been here or that we have spoken."

Kreacher only gave him a look of disgust.

Noting this, Sirius searched his head for something to say that would get him on Kreacher's good side. "I have realized that it is my duty to restore honour to our Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Toujours Pur, Kreacher."

Sirius's stomach twisted at his next words and he feared even he had gone too far when he said, "Do you know where Andromeda and that Mudblood husband of hers live?"

The elf's eyes shone maliciously. "Kreacher only knows that they live in London with his muggle family."

Sirius nodded curtly, resisting the urge to throw up. "Alright, Kreacher. Remember my instructions."

Sirius managed to give Kreacher a conspiratory look as he left the room. Once out of Kreacher's sight, he hurried to the front door. In just seconds he was standing out on the open street looking very much like an escaped Azkaban prisoner, but he did not care just then. Sirius glanced at the wand in his hand, not sure it had been worth it.

Now that Sirius had a wand, he found himself unsure of what his next step should be. Unfortunately for Sirius, he had a bad history with borrowed wands, as they never did exactly what they were supposed to do. Sometimes they failed to work altogether, being nearly as useful as their basic form: a stick.

Sirius looked around quickly to make sure no one was looking and made his way to the privacy of a dark alley nearby. Hoping against hope, Sirius pointed the wand at a bottle cap on the pavement and took a deep breath. "Accio."

Nothing happened.

"Accio!" Sirius muttered again, but the bottle cap refused to move. After a few more unsuccessful tries, the bottle cap finally flew to him, though reluctantly. It had definitely been a long time since Sirius had practiced magic, but he was certain that his father's wand was not helping matters any.

This was not going to work. Sirius sighed and fell to the floor in defeat, leaning against the cold brick. He would have liked to get his old wand back, but he realized it must be locked away and out of his reach, perhaps forever. Seeing as that would have been his fate too, he thought it might be crude to gripe about it.

Nonetheless, Sirius knew that a less than fully-functional wand was a legitimate issue he had to deal with. As it was, it was very likely he would splinch himself trying to get to those blasted muggles Dumbledore had left Harry with. Sirius' mission was hard enough without him having to go everywhere on foot. He would keep his father's wand for the time being, but he had to find a more permanent solution.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Whatever had happened to make Matt angry on previous days seemed to have resolved itself, though it had definitely brought a positive change to Harry's routine.

When Harry had first started going to the park, Matt had always accompanied him and watched from the benches, but Matt always tired quickly and Harry never got to spend as much time as he wanted. Eventually, Matt had allowed Harry to venture to the park alone, watching from a chair on their front porch until one day Harry looked over at the house and Matt had gone inside.

In addition to letting Harry go to the park again, Matt was now watching Harry from the front porch every day, sitting with a book in his lap and looking up at him periodically.

Harry had noticed this the day after the kids had approached him by the lake, and he thought it was pretty great because it was almost as if he was not alone. Harry smiled and kicked off from the ground with force. The park was unusually empty, meaning he could get a turn on the swing set before the big kids came.

Harry looked around, noting for the first time that there were never any older children at the park during the mornings. Robbie had mentioned having school for most of the year, telling Harry he probably was not old enough to attend just yet. But Harry was already six, and all around there were only younger kids, all accompanied by their mothers. Harry thought about the school Robbie had told him he attended. There were a lot of kids of different ages, he knew, and a time when they all ate together and played together. Would Matt let Harry be friends with Robbie once they went to the same school?

Harry's attention came back to Matt, who had left the chair and was standing near the gate to the park. Harry took courage from this; he had gone as high as he could go on the swing so he braced himself for impact and jumped. He looked up as he landed and caught Matt's eye, who smiled faintly and sat down at a nearby bench.

The little girl was wrong. Matt was not so bad.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Sirius had spent hours brooding over his dilemma. He needed a new wand, but it would be impossible to stroll through Diagon Alley with everyone on the lookout for him. Any spell that could help him change his appearance required a wand, and any potion that could do the same would require many rare ingredients.

There was a chance, though he was loath to risk it, that he could go into Knockturn Alley. Dark figures in hooded cloaks were the rule there, not the exception. Now, if he could purchase something there… The trip to Grimmauld Place might not be a total waste.

Sirius remembered having taken a potion once that allowed one to take on the appearance of someone else for a brief period of time. Polyjuice Potion, he was sure, took over a month to be ready. But considering its less than wholesome image, he might be able to purchase it in Knockturn Alley. The second part of that problem was that Sirius needed a hair from the person whose appearance he was to take.

Sirius could not afford to show up as someone whom Ollivander knew, in case he began to ask questions. The best solution would be to take a hair from a muggle and pose as a foreigner who had lost his wand while on holiday. Most, if not all, of Sirius' neighbors were muggles, so the issue then became breaking into their homes unnoticed.

The inhabitant of Number 13 was a middle-aged man who had never married. Sirius had played many pranks on him throughout the years; it had been easy because the muggle was hardly ever home. There was currently no car parked on the curve in front of his house, which probably meant he was out. Sirius could simply go in and take a hair from his brush.

It was the best plan he had.

Sirius walked towards the house, his hand shaking slightly. He stopped at the door and pointed his wand at it, muttering "Alohamora!" It took a couple of tries for the spell to finally work, and Sirius was feeling rather nervous when the door finally swung open. He made his way through the messy house carefully, not making any noise in case he was wrong.

Sirius rushed up the stairs towards the bathroom and opened the door with mounting excitement. He was going to get away with it. He went through the drawers quickly, not bothering to leave things as they had been before. He finally found a hair brush in the far left drawer and pulled out a few blond hairs. Sirius wrapped them in a bit of toilet paper and stuck them in his robe. He turned around and walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Sirius rushed down the stairs and towards the door, stopping dead on the last step. Standing next to the open door was the muggle the house belonged to. He was holding a gun and pointing it right at Sirius. Before he could say anything, Sirius transformed and ran past him and right out of the house. He heard a loud bang and what sounded suspiciously like someone hitting the floor.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Remus watched as the Ministry wizards moved around the perimeter of the building. Some of them were arranging benches and putting up decorations inside while the rest put up muggle-repelling charms. One particularly short wizard ran around muttering enchantments under his breath to keep muggles from seeing any change in the place where the ceremony would take place for Harry Potter in less than a week.

Remus had agreed to meet Dumbledore there, but he was nowhere to be found. He had been waiting for almost a half hour when Remus finally spotted Dumbledore walking around and speaking to a few Ministry members before finally walking over to Remus.

"Professor, you wanted to talk to me?" Remus asked.

Dumbledore took a small tin full of sweets from his robes and held it out to Remus. "Yes, I would have come to see you, but I am tied up with the preparations here."

Remus nodded his understanding and took a lemon drop.

"I wanted to talk to you about Black's escape," Dumbledore continued, "As I'm sure you suspected. There is something that is not yet common knowledge about his escape."

"Oh?" Remus froze.

"There was a newspaper found in his cell after he escaped. It contained the article announcing the end of the Ministry's search for Harry."

"How did he come by it?"

"The minister conducted an inspection of Azkaban that same day. He says Black asked him for it. "

Remus looked surprised. "What could be the meaning of it?"

Dumbledore shook his head, looking as puzzled as Remus had ever seen him. "It has to be a coincidence. There was no way Black could have known about the article. My first thought was that he escaped to rejoin Voldemort's remaining followers. Perhaps there is a plan regarding Harry as we suspected, and he is ready to set it in motion. But the minister has other ideas."

"Because he does not believe the Potters' son is alive." Remus stated simply.

"Indeed. The minister thinks it more likely that Black would concentrate on the ceremony planned for Halloween."

"You think he might attempt an attack?"

"I am more interested in what you think, Remus. You knew him well."

Remus did not look at Dumbledore at first. He was staring off into the distance, seeing something that was only in his mind. He seemed to debate the matter before replying, "I don't know Sirius… That is to say, I thought I did, but I honestly wouldn't know what to expect from him. No one will deny he was cunning, and I'm sure he has realized almost every witch and wizard will attend. "

"A thought that has crossed all of our minds."

"I can see why the minister is worried. The ceremony would be a perfect opportunity to attack all the prominent families that fought against Voldemort. If any remaining Death Eaters are aware of his plans, they will simply find a reason to stay away. This is only a theory, of course."

"One that you put much thought into."

"I didn't know about the newspaper, but I feared he might try something once he learned of such a large wizard gathering."

"I see I am not the only one who is troubled by the circumstances under which Black escaped. Few people seem to find it odd that Black's escape coincided with the newspaper in his cell. I've spoken to the Minister about it, but he maintains it has nothing to do with Black's escape. Nonetheless, he has made the Daily Prophet keep it quiet."

"It makes no sense, Dumbledore." Remus said, finally turning to look at Dumbledore.

"According to Fudge, Black was making more sense than anyone could expect."

"What do you mean?"

"He says Black was coherent. Not a word often used to describe anyone in Azkaban. He claims Black seemed as sane as you and I."

Remus frowned, obviously surprised by the news. "I didn't know staying sane in Azkaban was possible. I've heard even innocent people have been driven crazy after being around Dementors for too long. And Sirius has been there for almost five years, not to mention all the things he did..."

"I must admit it is very puzzling... I have been thinking about what you said. That perhaps Black was the one behind Harry's abduction. Hagrid told Black when he encountered him in the ruins of the Potter house that he was bringing Harry to me. Black could have given a signal and provided the location for another Death Eater to follow us."

"Then why not use that information to make a deal with the ministry?"

"I had thought that myself, but Black has been isolated since his capture. He would have no way of knowing if his plan succeeded. This incident has done much to change my mind on the matter. Perhaps knowing that he had been successful gave him a reason to escape."

Remus shook his head as if trying to clear it. "How did he do it, Professor?"

"No one knows, Remus. Sirius was clever as a boy, as you well know. He and James were great wizards, it's a shame…"

Remus avoided Dumbledore's gaze for a moment. "What exactly happened that night, Professor? I never asked you directly. If you don't mind, of course."

"You're quite right, of course. And considering the circumstances, it is important that you know. The night the Potters died, I left young Harry on his aunt's doorstep and then became invisible. I could not leave him unprotected, as the charm to protect him would not be complete until his aunt received him. I had not been waiting long when I heard a noise and I was instantly on alert. I could not see anyone, though I feared that someone was nearby. Before I could act to confirm my suspicions Harry simply disappeared. The letter that I had written to his relatives, the one that he had been holding as he slept, had been turned into a portkey. I heard someone Disapparate seconds after.

"Without going into detail, I can tell you I did all I could to trace the magic. I am sure you will believe me when I say I did not give up until I had used up all my resources, but it was too late. I was thwarted at each step by their careful planning and I lost precious time until the trail went cold..." Dumbledore trailed off sadly.

Remus looked at the old man in front of him. Dumbledore had allowed him go to school, had gone out of his way to help him on many occasions and had protected him. Dumbledore had been his hero for many years. Remus knew it was not the Headmaster's fault, but Dumbledore had finally failed at something and Remus could not help feeling let down. Seconds passed and neither man spoke.

Remus finally looked up at Dumbledore again and the emotion soon passed. Remus felt a sudden sense of guilt that he had ever blamed Dumbledore. It had not been his fault. There was no way he could have stopped it, but he had still tried.

Yet, no matter how firmly he believed this, he still did not trust himself to speak for a minute. It was not until the silence became unbearable that he spoke again.

"It was obviously planned out. Whoever turned the letter into a portkey was there before you were. There was nothing you could have done."

Dumbledore looked at Remus steadily for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he nodded. "I suppose they had been planning it before Voldemort's downfall and changed their plans at the last minute. They saw an opportunity and they took it. It would have been much more difficult to take him when he was living with Lily and James, but not impossible. It was just a matter of setting up the portkeys and having the right people in the right place."

Remus nodded, not quite sure there was anything else he _could_ do.


	4. A Stolen Identity A Godfather That Kills

Sirius had taken a bath, changed into clean robes and attempted to give himself a haircut with a pair of rusty scissors. He stood in front of the fireplace, his excitement mounting. Taking a handful of floo powder, he put his hood on with his free hand

Sirius had told Kreacher he was going to go to Diagon Alley to get a new wand because he had not been worthy of his father's wand, and the elf had happily set off to find him some clean robes. Whether it was because he was happy that Sirius recognized his unworthiness, or because he wanted him out of the house in hopes that he would get caught, Sirius did not know.

Resigning himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do to make himself look different, he threw the powder into the fire.

"Knockturn Alley!"

Sirius had never liked traveling by floo powder, and his anxiety made it even more unpleasant. It seemed like ages before Sirius finally landed in Knockturn Alley, falling out of a fireplace on the back wall of a cave-like room.

Sirius had been to Knockturn Alley many times, so it took him only minutes to find the shop where he could purchase the potion. When he and James had been fifteen, they had wandered in to purchase some particularly nasty substance to use in a prank. If only they had checked the map and seen McGonagall was coming up from the dungeons…

Sirius walked into the shop quickly, not wasting any time. There was a tall witch at the counter who looked as though she had no place among the grotesque items and potions she was selling. Sirius vaguely recognized her from his previous visits as the daughter of the shopkeeper.

"How may I help you?" her voice was kindly and she seemed completely unaffected by the fact that he probably looked menacing under his hood.

"I need some Polyjuice potion." he answered quickly, hoping he did not sound nervous.

"How much?" she asked, moving towards the wall behind her. Sirius made some quick calculations in his head.

"Enough for about five hours."

The girl took out a glass container and handed it to Sirius. "Ten galleons."

Sirius handed her the money and walked out of the shop. It took a lot of self control to keep himself from running back to the fireplace. He looked around for curious bystanders as he threw the floo powder into the nearest grate.

"Number 12, Grimmauld place." he said as softly as he dared, just in case anyone nearby could overhear him.

Once back at Number 12, Sirius rushed to the kitchen, Kreacher chasing after him. Sirius looked through the drawers in the kitchen, looking for a flask to take to Ollivander's with him. He took the hairs from his robe pocket and put them into the vial the girl had given him. Sirius let out a breath that he had not realized he had been holding when he saw the potion change colors. He poured it into the flask carefully and sealed it.

Sirius took a deep breath and walked over to the fireplace once more. He took a swig of the potion and made a face. A horrible feeling overtook him, and he was sure his insides were melding together. The feeling lasted only a minute before Sirius was sure the transformation was complete. Looking down at his hand he noticed it was unusually fat.

Sirius took more powder from the bowl on top of the fireplace, not bothering to put his hood on this time.

"Diagon Alley!"

For the third time that day Sirius experienced the unpleasant sensation of traveling by floo powder. He soon found himself in the Leaky Cauldron, though not as soon as he would have liked. Only a few people had turned to see who the new arrival was, but no one bothered to give him a second glance. Sirius almost sighed with relief. He walked out of the Leaky Cauldron, towards the Brick wall that led to Diagon Alley. He took out his father's wand, hoping the damn thing would work. He had to tap the bricks in the precise order twice before the opening revealed itself.

Seeing Diagon Alley and being able to walk through it so freely felt odd to Sirius after all the days of sneaking across England. He kept expecting people to begin pointing, and he felt an overwhelming urge to drink more of the potion every couple of minutes. He knew he had to take measured mouthfuls every hour or he might run out when he really needed it. No one pointed, and Sirius did not drink any more until he was right outside Ollivander's wand shop. Even then he was going against his better judgment; it had been about twenty minutes since he had left Grimmauld Place.

Fortunately for Sirius, the shop was empty when he came in. Only seconds after he set foot inside, Ollivander came out.

"Buying a wand today?" he asked, not waiting for answer as he took out his tape measure and began taking wands from the shelves. Soon, he was being measured and Ollivander had a few boxes stacked up on the counter.

"Which is your wand arm?"

Sirius hesitated. In what he hoped was a good Bulgarian accent, he answered. "Right."

Ollivander took one of the wands from the boxes. "Why do you need a new wand, if I may ask?"

Sirius cursed under his breath. He had not expected Ollivander to try to talk to him. "Visiting family. Broke mine."

"Ah... I see. And who was the maker of your last wand?"

Sirius searched his head for a good answer. "Gregorovitch."

"I see. Good wands, I admit. What was the core of the wand?"

"Dragon heartstring."

"Interesting. Perhaps a very old wand, as I don't believe he uses dragon heartstring in his wands now."

Sirius had now waved more than five wands, and he was starting to worry that his little venture would take too long.

"Maybe we ought to try a wand with the same core. The wand chooses the wizard, you know. Perhaps you have not changed much since you purchased your last one."

Ollivander moved towards another shelf, and Sirius took the opportunity to take another swig of the potion. Ollivander came back with only one box, to Sirius's surprise.

"We should try this one. Thirteen inches, dragon heartstring, good for Transfiguration."

Sirius took the wand and immediately experienced the same sensation he had felt when he had gotten his first wand at the age of eleven. Ollivander smiled.

"Quite a combination." he said, taking the box and handing it to Sirius. "I suppose you don't want it wrapped?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Well," continued Ollivander, "that'll be eight galleons."

Sirius handed him the gold and walked out of the shop quickly, still feeling Ollivander's eyes boring into the back of his head.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Harry woke up unusually early. He looked at the clock; it was barely 6:00 am. Curious about what had woken him, he opened his door quietly and walked to the kitchen. He could see light coming from the living room, but he could not imagine _why_ Matt would be up so early. Harry peeked into the living room quietly and saw Matt standing in the middle of the living room in his night clothes talking to another man. Harry strained his ears to understand what the man was saying.

"How could you, Matt? A Death Eater? Dumbledore has been looking for him for the last five years, and you've had him all along!"

"Yes, I have." Matt was pointing a long wooden stick at the other man, who looked beyond angry.

"I'm going to tell Dumbledore! We've been getting close for months!"

"Do you really think I'm going to let you out of here, Gary?"

"Even if you kill me, more of Dumbledore's people will come! We've been on your trail for months!"

"No you haven't. It was sheer dumb luck that you found me here. You didn't bother to tell anyone before you came."

"Do you think I'd be that stupid? Dumbledore will find you soon."

"I'll take my chances." Matt answered. Then he spoke some odd words and Harry turned away only catching a flash of green light out of the corner of his eye. When Harry turned back again, the man was flat on the floor, eyes open. Matt took a deep breath and then turned towards Harry, who did not notice in time to duck behind the wall.

Matt's face shifted into an expression of surprise and he lowered the stick. "Go back to bed."

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Harry was frozen to the ground, staring terrified at the man on the floor. Matt seemed to come back to his senses, because he followed Harry's eyes to the lifeless body on the floor, and put away the stick.

"Go to your room, Harry. I'll be right there."

Harry took his eyes off the unmoving figure on the floor and ran back to his room, his small feet making slight thumping sounds on the wooden boards. He locked the door behind him and practically threw himself onto the bed. Harry was already buried deep in the covers when Matt somehow opened the still locked door.

"Come out." Matt ordered. Harry hesitantly removed the covers from his face. Matt was looking at the room with distaste, only having been in it a few times. "What did you hear?"

Harry shook his head. "I woke up and went to see... I didn't hear..."

Matt studied him. "Well, Gary was a friend of mine who came to visit, but he fainted. Really sick, you know. I've called a doctor to come fetch him and treat him. He'll be fine."

Harry just nodded, not wanting to further inquire into it. Matt looked around the room, examining the few possessions Harry had. "We're moving."

Any thoughts of the man on the living room floor were driven out of Harry's mind. He looked at Matt, an expression of surprise on his childish face.

"When?"

"Day after tomorrow."

Harry looked around his almost empty room. He had grown up in it, but it had never felt like it was really his. His eyes traveled over the drawers where his clothes were kept, the mirror on his closet door, his drawing desk, and then to Matt.

"Where are we going?"

Matt moved away from the bed and towards the desk, idly looking through the assorted papers and drawings Harry kept on it. "I've found another house. It's smaller, but it has a backyard. Two bedrooms, not three like this one. It has-"

"Is it near a park?" Harry asked, cutting him off.

Matt nodded. "There's one right in front of it."

"Will I still be able to go to the park there like I go to the park here?"

Matt looked him over, his eyes lingering on the scar on Harry's forehead. His eyes narrowed for a second and he seemed to have an idea. Finally, Matt nodded.

"Go back to sleep for a little longer, and you can pack today after breakfast."

Harry nodded, feeling a huge yawn coming. Matt looked at Harry's forehead again and walked out, closing the door behind him. He waited for Matt's footsteps to indicate that he was going back to his own room, but they never came. Harry waited in bed for what seemed like forever before he heard his doorknob turn. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Harry could feel Matt moving closer to him.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, and he risked a peek. Matt was standing right over him. Harry closed his eyes again. He almost whimpered as he felt something cold on his forehead.

Harry braced himself for pain, but it never came. He heard Matt mutter something, and then felt as if someone was sticking clay on his forehead. Matt removed the stick from Harry's forehead and then Harry heard a rustling of fabric that let him know Matt had put the thing back in his pocket.

Harry heard Matt moving away, and then heard the soft 'click' of the door closing, followed by footsteps. He brought his hand to his forehead, fully expecting to find a lump of clay stuck there, but his finger brushed only soft skin.

Making as little noise as he could, Harry got off the bed and walked towards the mirror. Brushing his bangs and semi-long hair aside, Harry used the small bit of light that came in through his window to check his forehead. He frowned and traced his finger over where his lightning-shaped scar had been.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Matt paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, glancing at the head in the fire every once in a while. He went towards the kitchen to make sure Harry was not eavesdropping. Satisfied that there was no one there, Matt walked back to fireplace.

"It's got to work, Adam." Matt said, shaking his head in a very tired manner. "Sanders was probably just bluffing, you know. Dumbledore is no closer to finding us than he was five years ago."

Adam sighed. "Well, even if the old man _is_ on your trail, you two are moving out of this dump tomorrow. It's lucky that you and I had already talked about changing locations. The new house will be ready for you tonight. Why did you insist on the new house being near a park, anyway?"

Matt yawned. "Well the kid goes to the park here. It's the only thing he does. He spends most of his time there, and it keeps him out of my hair."

Adam, who had seemed relaxed only seconds before, now looked extremely angry. "What the _hell_ were you thinking, Mathew? You let him go out by himself?"

"Yeah, it was a little stupid. I did tell him not to talk to anyone… But anyway, what is done is done."

"And you're still going to let him wander around parks by himself even though Dumbledore might be close to finding you?"

"Even if Dumbledore did see him, he would never recognize him. I used a spell to hide his scar. Without the scar, no one will ever know it's him. Besides, Emma just sent me a potion. It'll lighten his hair and change his eye color and unlike the spell to hide his scar, it's not a glamour charm, so it can't be detected."

"And you think the kid isn't going to realize he's suddenly blond and has brown eyes?"

"Blue, not brown. And yes, he will notice, but he won't make too much of it. I'll think of something to tell him. Harry is six and doesn't know anything outside of this house. He has a very warped sense of what normal is."

"Still, Mathew... Are you sure it's wise to let him out now?"

"It'll be fine. His own parents wouldn't be able to recognize him after I'm done with him. As long as I cast the spell weekly and he drinks the potion every forty-eight hours, he will be unrecognizable."

Adam sighed. "Fine, but if you mess up, I'm going to kill you, you know that, right? What about Sirius Black?"

"What about him? He's probably going to get himself killed going after Dumbledore."

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Sirius had avoided Grimmauld Place ever since he had gotten his wand. Sirius had, instead, decided to go practice his magic in dark alleys and anywhere else he could go without being found. He had left Kreacher with orders to clean up the house, since it seemed the elf had not bothered to lift a finger ever since his mother had died. Sirius' parents had kept an interesting collection of dark artifacts and Sirius knew he would not be able to get rid of any of it with Kreacher looking over his shoulder, so he resigned himself to the fact that they would have to stay. As it was, he had no real desire to stay there.

Sirius' magic had improved greatly in only days, and Sirius was now certain he would be able to Apparate without splinching himself. He had been debating with himself for days whether it was too risky to return to his own home, the one he had inhabited at the time of James' death. The house he had purchased after his uncle's death, and had fondly named The Manor of the Messrs.

The only way Sirius could possibly justify it was by convincing himself that, though he had been to the house of the muggles Harry had been left with before, he was not familiar enough with their home to ensure he would end up in the right place. Knowing the exact location of the house was _vital_ if he did not wish to splinch himself. If he went home, Sirius could look for the letters Lily had written to him during the summer before their seventh year.

As unlikely as it had been, that was the year Sirius forgave Lily for taking his best friend. Lily had stayed with her sister Petunia and her husband the summer after their parents' death. She could have easily stayed with any one of her friends, or even James, but she had insisted on going with her sister. Lily had wanted to spend some time with Petunia in hopes of mending their relationship.

One ordinary day at the start of the summer Sirius had been surprised to receive a letter from Lily, whom he had never been close friends with. It seemed, however, that Lily had left her owl and school things with one of her other friends in hopes that her sister would be more accessible if she at least pretended to be normal. She wanted to get a letter to James explaining everything so the idiot would refrain from trying to 'rescue' her or send her owls.

James' family had lived in a secluded area, and their house was hidden by many spells, so Lily knew the Muggle postman would never find it. She had, instead, asked Sirius to send the letters for her since he had purchased a muggle residence almost with the express purpose of thumbing his nose at his mother.

And so, that summer, Sirius had played messenger for the two lovebirds. Lily would send Sirius two letters. One for himself, and the other to be forwarded to James. Sirius would send James his letter by owl and James would respond in the same way. Sirius would then send James's response and his own to Lily by muggle post.

Although Sirius had planned for all three of his friends to come spend the summer, they were all very much still under the influence of their parents and Sirius had ended up living alone. Thus, the exchange of letters between the three of them had definitely been the highlight of his summer. In the end of it all, Sirius had not only approved of James dating Lily, but had also ended up becoming friends with her. It must have seemed odd to Remus and Peter to return to Hogwarts and see Sirius being friendly with Lily, when he had never been anything more than polite before.

Sirius shook his head, trying to push the happy memory from his mind. He did not deserve to be happy. He deserved to rot in hell for causing James and Lily's death, for not protecting Harry, and for not killing Pettigrew. He had let them down.

Sirius returned to Grimmauld Place, not really wanting to waste time. He stood frozen at the door, listening. Sirius was sure he had heard Kreacher's voice coming from somewhere in the hall. If Kreacher had disobeyed orders and alerted the ministry that Sirius was there, they would have surely apprehended him by now. Perhaps it was one of his cousins. Sirius moved closer to the hall, hoping to catch some of their conversation.

"Kreacher is sorry, Mistress, that Kreacher has to follow the orders of that son his mistress never loved."

Sirius frowned. Kreacher had said his mother was dead. Had she merely been away, or had Kreacher gone mad? Sirius walked towards the direction the elf's voice was coming from, but he could hear no one else's voice. Peeking around the corner, Sirius saw Kreacher standing alone.

"Kreacher, why aren't you cleaning?" Sirius looked at the elf with a stern expression on his face. He was suddenly distracted by a horrible shriek coming from behind him.

"You!"

Sirius whirled around, coming face to face with a portrait of his mother.

"Mother. What a surprise." he answered through gritted teeth.

Her face twisted into an expression of pure hatred. "You! How dare you come to this place! Out of Azkaban, are you? I wish I could send you back! You are disgrace to this family!"

Sirius had to stick his hands into his robe pockets to keep himself from knocking the portrait down. Mrs. Black was still screeching insults at him, and as much as he agreed with her that he was a worthless human being, Sirius knew he had to stop her and get control of the situation.

"Mother. I came to see you. I heard you were sick." He was lying through his teeth, but it seemed to work because the screeching stopped, and his mother was now looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Kreacher said I was too late. I had come to ask for forgiveness, but he said you had already… passed on."

Sirius had always been a great liar, but not good enough to be able to ask for his mother's forgiveness with a straight face. The idea of sinking to that level disgusted him. It was not worth it. He would rather risk his chances going home.

Home. What a strange concept that was for Sirius.

Sirius looked at the portrait of his mother. "I... I must go. I have many things to do, and I agreed to meet the Malfoys in less than an hour. Perhaps we can continue this conversation later?" without waiting for an answer, Sirius shut the curtains over the portrait. He walked to the kitchen, leaving Kreacher behind to stare at the covered portrait of his mistress.

Sirius could not afford to lose Grimmauld Place as a hideout. No one would expect him to return to the house he had hated, especially not Dumbledore. That, coupled with all the conveniences a wizarding home contained, made it his best option. But Sirius hated that house, and he always would. He would get some gold, some clean robes, and anything else he might need and take it to the Manor of the Messrs.

Sirius had purchased the house after his uncle Alphard had died and left him as his heir. It was a two-story house with five bedrooms and three baths. He and James had named it the Manor of the Messrs; because it was there that the four friends were going to live after graduation. James had insisted that Sirius buy a small house for only himself and save the rest of his gold, but Sirius had his heart set on the idea of all of them sharing a house.

Sirius had hated his family and the house he had grown up in, but he had never hated being a pureblood or any of the advantages that came with belonging to an old wizarding family. There was certainly pride in being from a family that was a part of wizarding history, but his parents had always taken it too far. Sirius, unlike the rest of the Blacks, knew that blood purity had nothing to do with a wizard's greatness.

As much as he sometimes hated himself for it, Sirius had been brought up to be as obnoxious as the family he had come from. He had very much purchased the house as a sort of vengeance on his mother. Sirius finally had gold of his own, declaring his independence from her. And to adopt his friends, his near brothers, as his new family was to be the final insult to her.

Sirius had tried to stifle these impulses of Black family pride in himself, but they sometimes managed to come out when he least expected. His purchase of the house demonstrated that; he had wanted to prove that he could do anything he pleased. He was, after all, Sirius Black, and he deserved the best.

It had been this same pride that had always made him so careless and arrogant. It was the same pride that had made him go after Pettigrew. Wormtail had betrayed him, outsmarted him, and killed his best friend. Sirius had not been able to process that a pathetic waste of a wizard like Pettigrew had destroyed his world.

Even as he asked Hagrid to give him Harry, he had already been planning Pettigrew's death in his mind. He could have taken Harry from Hagrid and perhaps everything would have turned out for the best. But he had wanted revenge, so he had given up too easily and let Hagrid go without even trying.

Pettigrew would pay, of course. So would the muggles. Sirius did not know if they had even _seen_ Harry, but he was going to find out. Sirius would not hurt them if they had not done anything, but he was just so angry and felt he needed to lash out at _someone_. He would go to the muggles and hear them out, and if they really had not been at fault for his godson's disappearance, he would leave them alone and accept the fact that...

Well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Sirius climbed the stairs to the room that had once belonged to him and gathered some robes, all of the wizard money he had found in the house, a gold key, and the flask with the Polyjuice Potion he had purchased at Knockturn Alley. Most of the potion remained, which meant Sirius would be able to take another quick trip to Diagon Alley. He would purchase more Polyjuice Potion in case he needed to go out again, and perhaps make a withdrawal from his vault.

Sirius raced to the other side of the house and stood in front of the window that faced the house he had broken into days before. "Accio!"

There was the sound of glass shattering, and Sirius opened the window in time to catch the hairbrush. He plucked a hair from it with a grimace and closed the window, sticking the brush in his pocket. Kreacher was watching him from the stairs with his eyes narrowed.

"Where is master going?"

"Out. Didn't I mention I was meeting the Malfoys?"

"So Kreacher can now tell that master is home if someone is to ask?"

Sirius glanced at Kreacher. The elf was probably going to alert the ministry. "No. I'm not sure they will believe I'm reformed, so I have to speak to them first, but not as myself. We must unite the families again Kreacher, and re-establish our old ties."

With that, Sirius took a gulp of the potion and once again felt the sensation of his intestines writhing and twisting around inside of him. He gave Kreacher one last warning look and Disapparated.

In the blink of an eye, he was in front of the shop where he had purchased the potion before. The girl was behind the counter again, smiling pleasantly.

"How may I help you?"

"I need Polyjuice Potion. Enough for about three days." The girl looked surprised, but said nothing. She handed him a rather large glass jar.

"That'll be forty galleons." Sirius cursed under his breath hoping he had enough money for it. He dug his hand into his robe pocket and finally came out with the forty galleons. Thanking the girl, he walked out of the shop and tucked the potion into his pocket. It was a short walk to Diagon Alley, so he felt Apparating might be suspicious.

Sirius was rather nervous about going to Gringotts. He would not be recognized, he knew. Even though only he had a key, the vault was not under his name. No one could know it was him. He walked toward the huge white building, fiddling with the key in his pocket. No one looked at him as he walked into the bank. He went up to one of the goblins and took out his key.

"I need to take money from vault 515."

The goblin examined the key and nodded. "Right this way, sir."

The ride to his vault was a nightmare, and Sirius dearly regretted having eaten such a short time before his trip there. He took a large sum of gold from the vault, not knowing when he might be able to venture back. The ride back was better, and Sirius was able to take a drink from the flask, not wanting to risk the potion wearing off while he was still in the cart.

Sirius stumbled out of the cart as soon as it stopped. He put his hand on the wall, trying to steady himself. Once the world stopped spinning, Sirius straightened up, suddenly aware of the goblin looking at him slyly.

"Sorry," he muttered, "never liked riding those carts..."

"Quite understandable, Mr. Black."

Sirius turned his head to look at the goblin so quickly that he felt his neck crack. He looked down at his hands, but they were still not his own. The potion had not worn off.

"Excuse me?" Sirius asked, panicking.

"Do not worry; it is none of our business. We deal with money, Mr. Black. It does not matter to me what the owner of it does, only that it is truly his."

Sirius looked at the goblin incredulously. "I'm innocent," he finally muttered.

The goblin shrugged carelessly. "Perhaps you are."


	5. A Fateful Decision to Return

Harry stood in front of the mirror, examining his now blond head. Matt had given him some sort of purple juice as soon as he had woken up and sprayed water all over his hair, telling him not to move. He had explained that he needed to change Harry's hair color for some sort of costume party that was coming up. When Harry had asked what he was supposed to be, Matt had just mumbled something and walked out of the kitchen to go fetch something from the bathroom.

He had also mentioned the disappearance of his scar to Matt, who had seemed unconcerned.

"Scars fade, Harry. They don't always stay forever."

He looked at himself in the mirror again, wishing for the umpteenth time that his hair would go back to its normal black color and his eyes would become green again. It did not happen, however, so when he walked out of the bathroom, he caught a glimpse once again of the ridiculously light colored hair.

He sat down on the small coffee table in the living room, waiting for Matt to come out. Harry had managed to pack all of his things in less than two hours. It was not long before Matt came out. He carried a few boxes and suitcases into the living room, setting them down by the coffee table.

"Are we all packed? Alright, let's go." Matt signaled for Harry to get up and move to the door. Harry glanced at all the luggage, frowning.

"Who's going to take the things?"

"Don't worry about them. Let's just go." He looked Harry up and down as if inspecting him. "Right, you're ready."

Harry noticed a car already parked outside the house, waiting. The trip to the new house was rather long, but Harry did not particularly mind. He had never been in a car as far as he could remember, so the experience was quite exciting, even though it only consisted of him sitting quietly and watching the changing scenery.

Once in front of the house, Harry was surprised to notice the park was much smaller than the one in front of the old house. It was probably about half the size of the old one, and it did not even have a pond, much less a lake. He was more surprised to see all of their things inside the house when Matt opened the door. There was a fireplace in the living room, and someone had already lit the fire.

Harry was quite eager to explore the park, but it was almost dark, and Matt would probably not let him out until he had unpacked.

"Which one is my bedroom?" Harry asked, peeking into the hall. Matt pointed to the one furthest down the hall. He picked up Harry's things and carried them into the room.

"Come out for dinner once you're unpacked."

It took Harry longer to unpack his clothes than it had to pack them, and he had a faint suspicion that there were more of them. He encountered some trousers that he was not sure he owned and some new trainers that he had definitely never seen before. By the time he had finished, it was definitely too dark outside.

Harry had known he would not be able to explore that night, so it was not a huge disappointment. More upsetting was having to eat dinner by himself because Matt was busy unpacking. Having practically raised himself, Harry was not worried when Matt did not come out of his room for the rest of the night. Harry went to bed way before his usual bedtime in hopes of getting up early and spending the morning and afternoon in the park.

Harry changed into his pajamas and walked to his window. He gave a small cry of surprise and anger when he noticed he could barely reach it. He would have to stand on the tip of his toes to even see over the ledge.

The bed had been positioned next to the window in his old room, so Harry had always been able to look out the window by kneeling on it. Now, however, the window and bed were on opposite sides of the room. It did not matter so much that he was not near the window, it was the fact that he could not see outside that bothered him.

He would not be able to sleep.

Harry marched out of his own room and headed towards Matt's room. He opened the door silently, and almost gasped at the sight that met his eyes. A man was lying on the floor, writhing in pain with his mouth wide open as if he was screaming, but no sound came out. Matt was standing over him, the wooden stick pointing at him. Harry shut the door quietly. Harry could hear Matt's voice inside; he sounded angry.

Harry stood there, shocked. There had to be an explanation for what he had seen. Harry waited for a few minutes until the room was completely silent, then he knocked on the door loudly.

Harry heard Matt moving around inside, and the door opened after a minute.

"What is it, Harry?" he sounded impatient, and Harry regretted having knocked in the first place.

"I just... my bed is wrong. Do you think you can move it by the window?"

Matt looked as if he was going to object for a second before sighing and coming out, closing the door before Harry had a chance to see if the man was still on the floor.

"Go brush your teeth while I move the bed."

Before Harry could protest, Matt gave him a small push in the direction of the bathroom. When Harry returned from the bathroom, he found his bed already by the window and Matt back in his own room. He was not surprised. Matt seemed to have a very fast way of doing things. Things that took Harry almost a full hour, like folding his laundry, Matt would mysteriously do in less than five minutes.

Harry jumped onto his bed, thinking about the man in Matt's room. He had definitely been in pain, because he had looked near tears. Harry had knocked on the door, thinking maybe Mathew would stop pointing the stick at the man. He knew Matt would not have hurt him, but Harry had been terrified of the thing ever since he had seen it that night in the living room. The night that man had fallen by the fire.

Matt was _not_ hurting anyone. He had probably been helping him, and he, Harry, had interrupted him. He had only wanted to make the man feel better, but he should have known Matt could_ not_ be hurting anyone.

Knowing it would bother him all night if he did not find out, Harry jumped off his bed and headed back to Matt's room. He stood outside the door for a few minutes, and finally went back to his room, satisfied when he did not hear anything. Maybe Matt had managed to help the man.

Once back in his warm bed, Harry occupied himself with looking out the window. It was dark outside, so he had to turn off all the lights in the room to be able to see anything. The houses all around were fairly small, except for one in the distance that looked a whole lot bigger. Harry could see the park fairly well, and he found himself wondering if he would make any friends in this new place.

Harry knew he was not allowed to talk to anyone, but he did not know why and it seemed unfair. Harry would talk to Matt about school. Maybe Matt would go to the park with him the next morning and Matt could see all the other boys were okay and let Harry make at least one friend. If not, then maybe Harry could make a friend those times Matt was not checking up on him. It was not like there was any harm in having friends; it seemed to Harry to be a stupid rule.

Hours later, as Harry lay in bed trying to sleep, the memory of the man began to invade his thoughts again. He tossed and turned as the topic kept him awake for too long before he finally smacked himself in the forehead.

"Matt was _not_ hurting him!" Harry muttered resolutely before going to sleep.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Sirius shuffled through the box that held all the letters Lily had written to him the summer she had spent with her sister. He was rather disappointed to find that he had thrown the envelopes away and kept only the actual letters. Sirius knew he had to have kept at least _one_ of the envelopes in case he ever found need of the address. He emptied the contents of the box on the floor and looked through them. Minutes of searching finally yielded the envelope. Written neatly on the front in Lily's writing was the address.

_Lily Evans  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey_

Sirius found himself smiling as he remembered the letters they had exchanged that summer. With a great sigh, he stuck all the letters back in the bag and looked at the envelope. Little Whinging was definitely too far to travel by foot from the Manor of the Messrs. Sirius would have to Apparate.

Manor of the Messrs. Sirius frowned at how childish the name sounded. Perhaps he could rename it.

Sirius felt odd being back in his own house, but definitely safer. Grimmauld place brought back many bad memories, but all of the memories in his own house were happy, even if lonely. Besides, the odds that the ministry would find him there were minimal. Sirius had gone into hiding less than two days after James had.

The house was inaccessible to all but those who were, or had at one point been, escorted in by Sirius himself. It was not as fool proof as the Fidelus charm, but much simpler in nature. It served a similar purpose however; the Ministry could reveal the exact location of the house, but could not enter it.

The walls, floors, and furniture were all covered in a thick layer of dust, but Sirius could see it had recently been disturbed. He was willing to wager that Dumbledore and perhaps Remus had been to the house after his break-out to search it. Using his wand, Sirius cleaned out cupboards and drawers in the kitchen. None of the food would be good, of course; Sirius would have to go out to the local muggle shops and buy some essentials. If Sirius remembered correctly, he had kept a small amount of muggle money in his old school trunk, which was currently residing in the guest bedroom.

It all seemed to be falling into place.

Or maybe not.

Sirius did not know what he would do if he hit a dead end with Harry's relatives. He had nothing left. His godson dead, his best friend dead, his other best friend wanted to kill him, and Pettigrew, the rat, nowhere to be found. The situation was just hopeless.

Sirius wanted little more than to lie down in the middle of his drawing room and wallow in his guilt. He could just lie there until Remus showed up and put him out of his misery.

But that simply would not do. Sirius had to try, at the very least, to find Harry. He owed it to James. Sirius shook his head to try to clear it. He had recovered his magic fairly quickly, but he still had to concentrate, or he might splinch himself.

He blinked and found himself in a very clean kitchen. He cursed under his breath; the place made him feel sick. The walls were sparkling white; the only thing hanging from them was a calendar. Sirius walked over to it, curious about what day it was. It seemed to be custom made, because the pictures for every month were of a fat little boy that might have been a pig if it wasn't for the tuft of blond hair on his head.

Sirius' stomach gave a jolt. Halloween was circled in red ink.

_There will be a public ceremony held on Halloween in honor of Harry Potter_

What else had the paper said? Sirius searched his brain for the information, but he could not, unsurprisingly, remember anything else. What was more, Sirius had no idea where it was and at what time the event began. The only way for Sirius to find out the details about it was to get his hands on the Daily Prophet or to mingle amongst the wizarding community once more.

Sirius stopped himself halfway through planning a trip to Diagon Alley with the Polyjuice potion.

He should not go. Would not go.

Forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand, Sirius took out his wand and headed towards the living room. The house was oddly quiet, and Sirius began to suspect the inhabitants were not home.

Sirius climbed the stairs and walked around the second floor for a few minutes before going back downstairs. He had been correct in his suspicion that there was no one home.

There was no telling how long the muggles would be out and he could not leave a note. What would he say?

_Came to kill you but you weren't home; I'll try again tomorrow_

Sirius had no intention of hurting them if they knew nothing, of course, but he was counting on their fear of him. As soon as he had reached the kitchen, he heard a loud 'crack' coming from the second floor, followed by footsteps.

Damn.

Before the pounding footsteps had reached the stairs, Sirius was gone.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Remus watched as the Minister of Magic stepped up to the podium to speak. Remus had his doubts about Fudge; it seemed to him like the Minister had only waited what he considered an appropriate number of years before finally calling off the search for Harry. Now Fudge would go up on the stage, give a moving speech about how special Harry was, and wash his hands of the whole thing.

Fudge would talk about Voldemort's disappearance and how Harry had been the cause of it. He would talk about the years of peace Harry had brought them, mentioning, of course, the terrible price of them.

But what else could Fudge possibly say? He could not tell the whole wizarding community about Harry's first words, his favorite things, or about the time he crawled all over the house under James's invisibility cloak, nearly giving Lily a heart attack. But maybe Remus was just bitter towards anyone who accepted Harry was dead.

It was amazingly hypocritical of Remus, however. He wanted to believe the boy was dead. He wanted to move on, to just close that chapter of his life. Remus hated to admit it, but the search for Harry had gone on for so long that he did not know what effect its conclusion would have on his already empty life.

Remus' life had very much ended the night Lily and James had died. He wondered if it would have been any different if Harry had not been kidnapped. Would he have had any sort of life if things had been different?

His mind wandered back to Fudge. He was strangely curious about what sentimental rubbish the man would come up with.

"… A tragic ending to a truly extraordinary story," Fudge was saying. "After five years, we can finally let our wounds heal and rebuild our community, taking strength in the legacy of Harry Potter."

"Let us then honor him as he deserves to be honored, and remember him as he ought to be remembered. Like many others, I can tell you that he was born July 31st. I can also tell you that he defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But official Ministry records can't tell you what a person was like. They can't tell you if they were sweet, kind, and honest. Only the people who knew them can tell you that. And no one here knew Harry Potter better than Remus Lupin. I would like him to step up and please say a few words. Please give him your undivided attention."

Hundreds of eyes looked at Remus expectantly, and Fudge was looking at him with a kind smile. Dumbledore was sitting on his right. Remus turned to him, about to protest, but Dumbledore shook his head slightly.

"Don't you think, Mr. Lupin, that these people should hear a word from someone who actually cared about Harry?" Dumbledore whispered to him.

Remus was about to respond, but Fudge had stepped aside and sat down.

Remus made his way to the front, not sure of what he could say. He turned again towards the Ministry, but the Minister was already in deep conversation with someone. Dumbledore was nodding slightly, encouraging Remus to speak. Feeling considerably braver, he turned to face the masses. Dumbledore had always inspired confidence in Remus. When Remus had first started school, he had been terrified at the thought of people finding out what he was. He had been so afraid at times that he almost wished he could go home. But then Dumbledore would give him a reassuring look from across the great hall, and everything would be okay.

Everyone was still looking at Remus, but they had begun whispering. As soon as he opened his mouth, however, the whispering stopped. He wondered how different the situation would be if they knew what he really was.

"Harry Potter," Remus began, taking a deep breath, "was my best friend's son. I don't know what you can say in a situation like this." Remus hesitated for a second before going on, "I suppose you can only talk about how tragic it is. I can't begin to speculate what he would have been like today, for he was only a baby when everything happened. Harry was a normal boy."

People began to whisper angrily, but Remus went on. "He was special to those who knew him, special to those people whose hearts he touched. He had that purity, an innocence that only children can have. A perfect example of what You-Know-Who wanted to destroy. And what _we_ were fighting to protect." The whispering had stopped and everyone seemed to be hanging on to his every word.

"We are all here to honor and mourn Harry Potter-" Remus stopped suddenly. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dumbledore talking to an Auror, and he seemed to become increasingly worried as the conversation continued. Dumbledore gave Remus a warning glance, but Remus turned back to the audience. "And I can only hope that he will not leave our thoughts and hearts any time soon. Excuse me."

Remus walked towards Dumbledore. The old man gave him a stern look, but dismissed the Auror and led Remus off the stage. The Minister had made to follow Remus after the abrupt ending to the latter's speech, but was tapped on the shoulder by another Ministry member, and so he grudgingly made his way back to the podium.

"Is something wrong?" Remus asked once they were a considerable distance from any curious eavesdroppers.

"No, not quite. Someone Apparated into Petunia Dursley's house."

"Pet... Lily's sister?" Remus asked with a frown. "Why? Was anyone hurt?"

Something like an expression of amusement passed over Dumbledore's features, but it was gone before Remus could make sure. "As it happens," Dumbledore answered with a sigh, "Petunia Dursley and her family are here, so the trespasser found nothing but an empty house."

"Lily's sister? Here?" Remus followed Dumbledore's gaze to a stiff looking blonde woman in muggle clothing. "I thought she had completely cut herself off from the wizarding world."

Dumbledore studied the muggle family for a second before turning back to Remus. "I find her presence as puzzling as you do. She attended her sister's funeral, naturally, but I don't see why she would come today."

"Perhaps an attempt to stop the rumors in the wizarding world regarding her role in Harry Potter's disappearance?"

"Perhaps. She certainly does not seem ecstatic, does she?"

"No, I suppose not. Though the occasion does not particularly call for such an emotion either. Any idea who decided to pay them a visit?"

"I have my suspicions."

"Sirius Black?" Remus could feel his day going downhill.

"It would seem logical that he would want to speak to the people I left Harry with. If he is looking for the boy too, that is."

"Or if he's just looking to kill the last members of the Evans family."

"True. Hagrid told Sirius that he was going to deliver the boy to me, perhaps Black realized where I was going to take him and gave the order to set the plan in motion."

"Which would mean Sirius would know what happened to Harry."

"It also means we should double our efforts. If that is really the case, there may still be hope."

Remus nodded. "Are you going to tell her?"

Dumbledore looked at the woman again. "I do not think it prudent just yet. It would just frighten her and will not do any good."

Remus nodded, and Dumbledore continued, "I took measures long ago to keep the Dursley family under supervision, even though there would presumably be no need. I set up spells that would alert me to magic inside the house, things like Apparation and hexes, but I believe I will need to cast some strong protective spells around the house now. If Sirius should attempt anything, I will know."

"It can't have been Sirius. If he _did_ Apparate inside the house, that means-"

"That means he can do magic. I am quite sure Black has already been in contact with other Death Eaters. There is no doubt in my mind that he has acquired a wand."

"But how? Even if someone purchased a wand for him, it would make no sense. Sirius was rather special with wands. Sometimes he would try to use other people's wands, and they simply wouldn't work. Rarely he would borrow James' or even mine, but never with ideal results. Sirius would have to purchase the wand himself to find one that would work properly."

Dumbledore seemed to think about it for a second before nodding. "It could have been someone else, I suppose. I must admit, I am hoping that Sirius does not have a wand, as that would complicate everything so much more. Sirius Black is extremely dangerous, and the Ministry must catch him soon. Perhaps you should take a trip to his old home, go over anything I may have missed."

"I don't think Sirius would go back there, but I will check, of course. As you know, the full moon is tonight, but I should feel well enough tomorrow with some help."

"No need to strain yourself, I am quite certain he would not choose such an obvious hiding place. We should, however, keep an eye on it as he may try to retrieve some of his possessions. Do not bother going until you have recovered completely, as I am sure you will not miss much. Should you meet him, it would not do for you to be as weak as you will undoubtedly be tomorrow morning."

Remus nodded.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

"Matt, I need you to get over here _now_!"

Harry opened the door a bit wider, hoping he would be able to hear when the other man left.

Harry was ready to go to the park, but he had not been given permission yet. It sounded like Matt had company. Harry had thought about leaving for the park anyway and just leaving by way of the kitchen's back door, but he did not want to risk Matt getting mad at him for not staying out of the way when he had visitors.

"What am I supposed to do with the kid, Adam? Just leave him here?"

"It won't be long. We can't find McNair, the bastard probably decided not to do it. They need to see five of us, and you're about the same height and build as Black... Besides, don't you consider it an honor that you get to take part in the first muggle killings since the Dark Lord's defeat?"

"Dammit, Adam! Fine. But what about my little err...visitor?"

"Well, knowing you, it's not like he's in any condition to escape, is he?"

"No... He's still not talking either. If we didn't need the information, I would have killed him by now. Should have heard the smug little bastard. A Gryffindor, I'm sure. He said he would rather die than tell me what I want to know. When is he getting picked up? I really don't want to have him here much longer. I have the kid to worry about, and the Ministry is constantly on the alert. With Black's escape, the kid's funeral, and what we have planned for today, the Ministry is going to be worse than usual."

"I'll see if I can arrange for someone to go pick him up tonight. Look, we should have been ready half an hour ago. It is almost one, and we can't get too far behind schedule. Get your things and floo over here."

Harry shut the door just in time. The wall between the two bedrooms was rather thin, and Harry could hear Matt shuffling things around. Sure that the other man was gone, Harry opened the door in time to see Matt rush out of his room and into the living room. He seemed to be in a hurry, because he did not even notice Harry.

Harry had not understood what the two men had been talking about. He had heard something about a visitor, but he was sure it was the man Matt had been trying to help the night before. Matt had asked for him to be picked up, something Harry was glad about. The man certainly needed help, and Harry felt much better now the he knew Matt actually _had_ been helping the man.

If Matt was making arrangements for the man to be picked up, then that meant the man was still in the house. He was probably too weak to leave Matt's room. Why had Matt not told Harry to make extra toast that morning?

Matt probably did not want Harry to ask too many questions. He would have had to tell Harry about the man, and he probably had not wanted to scare him. Matt was certainly right to not tell Harry, especially with the way Harry had reacted the night before when he had first seen the strange man. Harry could not admit to Matt that he knew, because then Harry might get in trouble. Maybe Harry should take the visitor some food when Matt left; show Matt he was mature enough to handle it and help him.

Harry tiptoed his way to the living room, but Matt was already gone. He checked the kitchen and the bathroom too, but they were empty. And Matt certainly wasn't in his room, since Harry had been standing in the hall after he had gone out. Even though he was eager to get to the park, he knew the sick man was more important. He hadn't had a chance to explore the park yet, but making the toast would only take a couple of minutes.

Harry put the bread in the toaster and poured some milk into a cup. Harry was so startled when the bread popped up, that he nearly dropped the plate he had been holding. Was there any reason to be as nervous as he was? Matt could not possibly get mad at him for feeding the man, could he?

Deciding that Matt would not punish him for something as trivial as that, Harry put the toast on the plate and picked it up along with the cup of milk. He walked to Matt's room carefully, spilling drops of milk as he went. He set the plate down in front of Matt's door and ran back to the kitchen for a dishcloth to clean the milk with. After making sure all the milk he spilled had been picked up, he returned the towel to the kitchen and headed back to Matt's room.

Harry knocked, though he was expecting no answer. He should let the man know he was coming in; had Matt not told him to never go into his room without knocking?

After picking up the two dishes, Harry opened the door slowly and peeked in. The room was empty. He looked all around the room, even under the bed but found no one. With a confused frown on his face, he headed slowly towards the closet door. He managed to put the cup on the plate to free his right hand.

Harry's hand was halfway to the doorknob, when he heard a small _'thump'_. He drew his hand back quickly. Nothing happened for a few minutes, and Harry finally put his hand on the doorknob and threw the door open.

Harry stared inside, puzzled. He knew he had heard a sound coming from there. He continued to stare, and again, he heard a thumping noise. Harry reached forward with his free hand and his hand made contact with something firm, though there was nothing there. He felt around, and his hand gripped fabric. With one hard pull on it, Harry stepped back.

Harry gave a small yelp and dropped the dishes.

Harry stared at the man inside, scared. He was stuck between running away, untying the man, or getting a towel to clean up the milk.

The man was staring at Harry, wide-eyed, and his eyes stayed on Harry's forehead far too long for Harry's liking. Harry backed away from the closet, and the man began shaking his head frantically. Harry, never taking his eyes off the man, grabbed a dry folded towel from the top of Matt's dresser and put it on top of the spilled milk to absorb it from the rug.

The man was still staring at Harry as though amazed. Harry knelt down and patted the towel a few times before picking up the dishes and setting them down on top of it. Unsure of what to do next, he stood up and watched the man for a minute.

"Are you okay?"

The man shook his head vigorously. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He then glanced down at the ropes binding him, and Harry understood.

Hesitantly, Harry moved closer and began messing with the knot. The ropes were very tight, and all Harry managed to do was loosen them. The man got his arm free, and Harry rushed away. The man did not reach for him or do anything of the sort. He looked too weak to do much of anything. Instead, he pointed towards Matt's dresser and mouthed the word '_please_'. On top it laid a stick very much like Matt's, but made of darker wood.

He stared at it for a moment, unsure if he should give it to the man.

"Do you need it to get better because Matt's not here to help you?"

The man's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded.

Harry fetched the stick and threw it, and the man picked it. He pointed it at himself and mouthed something. The man began to cough as though he was choking, but it subsided after a few minutes. It seemed to take him all his strength to get up.

"Harry?" he croaked.

Harry, shocked that the man knew his name, backed away. He looked down at the toast on top of the towel and pointed to it. "I thought... there's toast... if you were hungry..." he finished weakly.

The man looked startled. "I'm not going to hurt you. I need you to come with me. It's import-" he was cut off as the door to Matt's room was thrown open. Standing there, looking furious, was Matt.


	6. A Very Lucky Coincidence

In less than a second, Matt's stick was out of his back pocket and pointed at the strange man and Harry. The stranger, as haggard and weak as he looked, was still managing to stand and point his own stick at Matt.

"Move out of the way," he croaked. "I'm taking Potter back."

"Over my dead body." Matt smirked.

"You should know that'll suit me just fine!" the stranger hissed angrily.

Before Harry could process what was going on, Matt had backed out of the room, followed by the intruder. The strange man looked like he was about to collapse, but something seemed to keep him standing. Both were holding up their sticks and looking at each other.

Matt shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" at the same time a light burst from the stick in the other man's hand and threw Matt against the wall. Harry stood there for a second, shocked, as Matt's body landed with a _thump_.

The man then lowered his wand and turned to Harry, but the boy was already at Matt's side. Harry tried to shake Matt with his tiny hands, but he only managed to move his head to the side.

"We don't have much time. Come on." The stranger tried to grab a hold of Harry's hand, but Harry snatched it away.

"No!"

The man was taken aback by Harry's reaction. He stood there for a couple of minutes, almost as if he could not process what was going on.

"Harry," he spoke slowly, "I don't know what he has told you, but it's not true. He wants to kill you, Harry. He wants to kill us both. Haven't you ever wondered what happened to your parents?"

Harry, who had been trying to shake Matt awake while ignoring the stranger, stopped dead. "My parents?"

Seeing this as a good sign, the man went on, "he is not who he says he is. We have to get out of here. There's a man, his name is Dumbledore, and he knew your parents, Harry."

Harry said nothing, but he had gotten up and begun backing away from Matt.

"He killed them, Harry. He wants to kill us, too. I'll take you to Dumbledore. He's a nice man. He'll tell you everything, Harry." The stranger made to grab Harry's hand again, which seemed to be the wrong thing to do.

Harry reacted so quickly, that the stranger never saw it coming. Before the man could grab Harry's hand, Harry had gotten Matt's stick and stuck it into the man's leg.

It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but too late did Harry realize it would not slow the man down enough for Harry to be able to get help.

"No! Potter!" the man growled. He grabbed Harry and tried to lead him towards the fireplace.

Harry struggled, his sobs unheard by his captor, who seemed to be too weak to completely subdue him. Harry saw him grab some powder from a little bowl on top of the fireplace. It seemed like he was about to throw it into the fireplace, when Matt's furious voice screamed "Stupefy!"

The man loosened his grip on Harry's wrist and Harry noticed he dropped the powder he had been holding as well.

Matt stood up and moved towards Harry. He knelt down in front of Harry and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, looking him up and down.

Satisfied, Matt stood up again. Harry watched horrified as Matt moved towards the man and aimed several kicks at his middle, stopping only when he saw Harry come to his side and grip his free hand.

Matt turned back to the terrified boy, but far from whatever comfort Harry had expected, Matt raised his stick and pointed it at him. Harry, who had been chastising himself for listening to the other man, suddenly knew it was his turn. Perhaps the stranger had been telling the truth? Matt was going to hurt him.

"Obl-" Before Matt could finish, Harry had pushed the wand aside. He knocked it clear out of Matt's hand and ran towards the open front door. "Stupefy!" was the last thing he heard as he ran out of the gate.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Sirius wandered aimlessly around the park. It was a stupid thing to do, despite the fact that he had taken the Polyjuice potion. Sirius could not get rid of the horrible feeling of emptiness inside him. When he was doing nothing, he felt useless and felt he must do _something_. Yet, when he _was_ doing something, he felt completely overwhelmed and fatigued. The sheer stupidity of it was amazing.

He was so angry at the world. Angry at those that could officially declare Harry dead.

But could Sirius blame them? They had not known Lily and James, so why would they care about their son? Sure, the boy had supposedly defeated Voldemort, but they had no real attachment to him. They did not have his unfulfilled promises on their conscience.

Sirius was trying very hard to keep his mind off the funeral- no, ceremony- but it seemed impossible. Surely, it would almost be over.

And so, Sirius sat at the edge of a small fountain, looking at his borrowed reflection for a long time. It was not until he heard the sound of a heavy metal gate being slammed open that he was snapped out of his reverie. He had been so deep in his thoughts that he was greatly surprised to see the potion had worn off.

Sirius looked around to make sure he was alone and stuck his hand into his pocket, looking for his flask.

It was empty.

It was foolish to stay. After the incident with the Dursleys, Sirius would have to be more cautious. He was not even sure if he would be able to sleep that night. Perhaps it was best if he spent the night on the street.

Sirius had to be alert in case Remus or Dumbledore came by. He would need a plan, of course. He had to come up with a way to monitor the house without actually being in it. Or perhaps set up wards and disable Apparition. Sirius' magic was greatly improved, but all of those things were complicated magic. Not to mention a clear giveaway that he had returned home. It was not safe to spend too much time there. Luckily, the house was already protected from enchantments cast by others, so Sirius could at least avoid being caught in any traps. Perhaps there was a simple spell that would allow him to block the entrance to one specific person…

Sirius would have to plan that later, however. He stood up and headed back towards the house. He had not taken two steps when he remembered he had not fetched any food or means of sustenance. With a small groan of frustration, Sirius turned and walked the opposite way, heading towards the nearest shop. Remembering the potion had worn off, Sirius turned around and headed toward the house. _Again_.

Sirius did not want to walk. He did not want to do much of anything, actually. If he could just find a private spot in the park, he could Apparate into his house and save himself the walk. He looked around, and then decided to move to the wooded area of the park. The trees all seemed to be very close together- it was the perfect spot. Sirius had not reached even the first of the trees when two things happened, one right after the other. First, he heard the loud _crack_ of someone Apparating. Sirius looked around wildly, panic filling him. He whipped out his wand, but was distracted by the second thing. Something small, blond, and terrified crashing into his legs.

Sirius looked down, almost amused. Tear-filled blue eyes stared up at him, and all of Sirius' amusement faded. Before he could offer to help him up, the boy had gotten up of his own accord and made to start running again. Sirius, fully aware that something was definitely wrong, caught his wrist. The child struggled for a few seconds.

"He's coming!" sobbed the little boy, trying to wriggle out of Sirius' grasp.

Sirius tried to ask who was coming, but the kid was fighting so hard, that it was almost impossible for Sirius to hold him. Using both hands, he managed to subdue the kid further. Sirius kneeled down in front of him and tried again to ask who was coming, but the kid was still struggling madly.

Frustrated, Sirius finally gave the boy a good pinch. The boy kept struggling, and Sirius was running out of ideas. It occurred to him to use magic on the boy, but before he could decide whether it was a good idea or not, the boy gave a frightened squeal. Sirius looked up and quickly spotted a grown man coming out of the woods, wand pointed at Sirius.

Acting on instinct, Sirius whipped out his wand in less than a second and stunned the man. The kid stopped struggling.

"Who is he?"

The boy was not even looking at Sirius, but rather at the fallen man; an odd look had come over his face. "He's my godfather."

Sirius cursed. Loudly. He was definitely in trouble. Why the hell had he been stupid enough to get involved? He had just stunned the boy's godfather, who happened to be a wizard, for no apparent reason. The kid had probably done something, and was just trying to escape punishment.

"Why were you running from him, then?" He tried to speak soothingly, but his mind was going too fast, and it was hard to keep the comforting tone of voice.

"I- I don't know. There was a man. He told me Matt wanted to hurt us." The boy hesitated, and Sirius realized he was looking at his wand, almost as if terrified of it.

Sirius grudgingly put the wand away, casting a wary look at the stunned wizard a few meters away.

"I know it sounds stupid," the boy continued, "but they both have sticks like yours. And I think Matt was using his to hurt the other man. I walked into his room yesterday, and the man was on the floor, screaming. I think he's sick and Matt was trying to help him, but then Matt pointed it at him earlier and said some words, and the man fell. And it's happened before, but he just told me that man had fainted. And then today, he pointed the stick at me and was going to say something-"

"A muggle," Sirius muttered absently, eyeing the boy's godfather again and efficiently interrupting the kid's rant. "Do you live with him?"

The boy nodded.

Why was a wizard raising a muggle? It did not make sense. Unless the boy was not a muggle, which did not seem likely, since the kid did not know what a wand was. Sirius looked the boy up and down. Blue eyes and impossibly blond hair... A Malfoy? No, there was no malignant air around him, nor did he trigger a sense of impending doom in Sirius. The boy seemed more familiar by the second, but Sirius could hardly dwell on trying to place him.

Perhaps the boy belonged to a wizarding family Sirius had met before; but that would only make sense if the boy had been kidnapped, which seemed almost as unlikely.

"He tried to hurt you?" Sirius finally said.

"I don't know. But he's hurt others, and-"

Sirius held up a hand to silence him, remembering the boy's earlier comment. _'...I think Matt was using his to hurt the other man. I walked into his room yesterday, and the man was on the floor, screaming..._

"Stay here," Sirius muttered. He let go of the boy and took out his wand, moving towards the wizard. He knelt down beside him, wand still in hand, and lifted the sleeves of his robe.

Sirius' stomach gave an odd lurch as he saw the faint outline of a Dark Mark. The kidnapped theory did not seem all too unlikely all of a sudden. Sirius held his wand tighter and stood up abruptly. Why could he see the mark? Voldemort had vanished, and unless...

Sirius would not let himself finish the thought. If Voldemort was getting stronger, it might have something to do with Harry. While it could mean Harry was alive, the fact that the mark was even slightly visible was bad. It could mean they were getting ready to kill him. The other terrified boy was forgotten as Sirius tried to figure out a way to communicate it to someone who could make use of the information.

If a Death Eater had the kid, then he _had_ to be of some importance. He would either have to be the son of a prominent Death Eater, which would explain why his godfather was one too, or he would have to be the son of an important wizarding family, most likely one that had fought against Voldemort. Sirius tried to remember some of the more prominent wizarding families. A blond kid... Barty Crouch's son? No, Crouch did not have a younger child, as far as Sirius knew. Prewett? Definitely not, Prewett's wife had died almost seven years before, and the kid could not be older than five...

It was not until the man stirred and the boy whimpered that Sirius remembered the situation. He would have to get the kid somewhere safe. Further thought on the matter was prevented by the Death Eater's revival. Sirius picked up the kid, stunned the man again, and ran.

It was not the most graceful getaway, but it would have to do. The kid barely protested; he only looked back at his godfather, a mixture of terror and worry on his face. In less than five minutes they had reached the house. Sirius kicked the door open with his foot and stepped inside, setting the boy down as soon as they were inside. He stood where Sirius had left him, barely breathing. Sirius, on the other hand, collapsed on the nearby couch.

What could Sirius do now? Where was he even supposed to start? "What's your name?" Sirius finally decided was a fair question.

The boy jumped slightly. "My name is Harry," he finally muttered.

Sirius instantly leaned forward and brushed the hair off of Harry's forehead. No scar. A lump had formed in his throat, and he was having a hard time trying to swallow it. Sirius leaned back against the couch.

"Surname?" Sirius asked absently, trying to think of a way to fix the trouble he had foolishly gotten himself into. Well, he had probably rescued a boy, at the very least, that had to be a plus.

"I dunno." Harry answered frankly. Sirius had been so caught up in his own musings that he had forgotten the question.

"What?"

"I said I don't know. Matt never told me."

"I know what you answered," Sirius answered, frustrated, "But what was the question?"

"You asked what my surname was."

"So what _is_ your surname?" Sirius asked, his annoyance mounting. The boy seemed to find it funny, because he started giggling slightly.

"I don't know what my surname is. I just told you that."

Sirius frowned. He needed a drink. Badly.

"Matt's surname is Reid," the boy continued, "so maybe that can be my surname."

Sirius felt sympathy for the boy then. "Do you know anything about your parents?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know... I asked Matt about them after Robbie told me it was weird for me not to have parents, but Matt said they were... gone. I didn't ask because I was scared I would get into more trouble for talking to Robbie if I asked more questions."

"Who's Robbie?"

"He's a boy I talked to once. Matt never let me talk to people, and he got angry when I talked to Robbie. I have never really talked to anyone other than Matt-"

"You had never talked to anyone else before you talked to this boy?" Sirius asked.

Harry shook his head.

It was starting to sound more and more like the kid had been kidnapped and kept secluded. "So you don't know _anything_?"

"I know Matt," Harry answered very quietly.

Sirius' expression softened. "Did you like Matt?"

"Sometimes. He never wanted to get a TV or a radio. They're these really great things-"

"I know what they are," Sirius answered. It definitely sounded like the child had been isolated his whole life. "Do you want something to eat?" Too late did Sirius realize he had nothing edible in the house.

It had seemed Harry had been getting more comfortable, but he suddenly stiffened again and shook his head.

Sirius cursed. Again.

"Do you want to go back to Matt?" Sirius was not sure why he asked the question. The kid hardly had a choice, since the Matt fellow was a Death Eater. If Harry's relatives were no longer around, the kid would probably be sent to a wizard orphanage or something of the sort. Assuming he was, indeed, a wizard, of course.

"Matt's not very nice all the time," Harry said slowly, "If I could find my parents, I think I'd like to be with them for a bit. If they loved me... I mean, they're supposed to love you, right? Because they take care of you, so they should care for you, right? "

Sirius nodded, feeling extremely guilty. He was feeling worse about the situation by the second.

"Do you think you would rather be with them than with Matt?"

The boy didn't answer, so Sirius tried rephrasing his question.

"You don't love Matt?"

Harry hesitated again, but answered nonetheless. "Well, he's my godfather. He takes care of me and goes to the park with me sometimes, but he doesn't do anything else. I mean, he... Well, he wasn't doing anything wrong, was he? He doesn't have to love me, just because he takes care of me, right? That's only parents, isn't it...?" Harry trailed off.

Sirius thought he could somewhat understand. A relationship of convenience, it seemed. Was that not the same thing he and his own family had had? Poor kid. Sirius knew what that was like.

"Listen," Sirius said, hoping to make Harry feel better, "I know this man. I think he can probably help you find your family. I just need to ow... call him and tell him about you."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sirius regretted them. It was a bit like giving false hope. Sirius could not guarantee that he could find the boy's family; and contacting Dumbledore was going to be dangerous. What was he supposed to say? He could almost imagine himself writing a letter to Dumbledore.

_Dumbledore,_

_Hey, professor. I know you're out looking for me, and I thought I might make it easier for you to find me by contacting you. Oh, by the way, I have a kidnapped kid with me._

_Sincerely,_

_Sirius Black._

Yeah, that would work wonderfully. Sirius shook his head. Dumbledore might be his best choice. If nothing else, he knew Dumbledore would make a genuine effort to find the boy's family. Sirius could think of nothing else to do, and leaving the boy with his so-called godfather was definitely not an option.

"Hey," Sirius began, "you know, it's still early, so you'll probably get hungry later. I need to go out and get some things, mostly food. Would it be alright with you if I went out?"

The boy looked at him, stunned. "Does it matter?"

It took Sirius a moment to process what the boy had asked. It was so extremely pathetic to see a child behaving that way. Sirius felt like finding that Matt bloke, and hexing him a few times.

"Well, of course it matters. If you don't want to stay by yourself..." Sirius trailed off. If the boy did not want to stay by himself, there was nothing Sirius could do. They would definitely need food, but it was not a good idea for Sirius to go out with the boy. There really was no option, but making the kid believe that there really was an alternate solution made him feel better.

Harry, however, shook his head. "I don't mind. I'll be good, I won't touch anything, and I'll just stay in this room."

Sirius frowned. "You can go around the house if you want. Actually, I have some books maybe- oh, you can't read, can you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Damn. You know, you're probably going to have to spend the night..." Sirius trailed off, the boy remained quiet. Sirius hoped his transfiguration skills were as good as they had been before.

"Wait here." Sirius ran up the stairs and into the bedroom next to his own. He wanted to keep the boy as close to him as possible, but the price was a tad too high. The room next to the Master bedroom was the second largest in the house, and it had been where James stayed.

It was not personalized; James had only left a few things in there, but Sirius had stored them in the closet already. Sirius could not bear to leave them out in the open, but closing the door to the room seemed wrong for some reason, so he had put them away where he would not have to see them every time he went by. The next bedroom had been Remus', who had spent quite a bit more time living in the house, not having been blessed with wealthy parents like James, who inherited a house. Sirius had locked that room, not being able to completely hide his friend's presence.

The last room had been Wormtail's room, and Sirius definitely was not going to put the boy there. He was currently in the process of thinking how to burn it without damaging the rest of the house.

The only other room in the house was on the ground floor, the furthest away from Sirius as possible. If anything happened to the kid...

Sirius rubbed his eyes. He had to stop calling him 'the kid'; his name was Harry. It was this, perhaps, that made him decide to put the boy in James's room. Maybe he had found the boy- Harry- for a reason. Maybe if he helped this child, his debt would be paid off. Was it not interesting that soon after losing hope, he had stumbled onto another boy named Harry? Perhaps it was a chance to redeem himself.

But people like him did not get second chances. No, they were not allowed to redeem themselves.

In any case, Sirius had to help the boy. It was the right thing to do. With a great sigh, he locked the closet door. He did not want the boy to get into James's things. Using a few cleansing spells he had learned in his Hogwarts days, he managed to dust the room, change the sheets, and get rid of the musty smell. Every single room in the house was decorated with tapestries, statues, gold trimmings and other equally expensive things. The pride of the Blacks had definitely been around when he had decorated.

Sirius removed none of it, however. He only sacrificed a few of the more horrible statues (he was quite sure he had only ever put them in the room to annoy James, as he could not remember ever having such bad taste) and transfigured them into various toys he assumed Harry might like. There was a television in the closet, which worked well enough once prompted by Sirius' wand. A horrible pink cushion was sacrificed to make a remote and Sirius also found a set of small elephant figurines he had never really liked and transfigured them into toy motorcycles. He had no idea what Harry would like, but the boy seemed to think highly of the television, so Sirius assumed it would keep him entertained.

Sirius took one last look around the room and headed towards his own room. He poured more of the Polyjuice Potion into his flask and put it back in his pocket. Sirius knew it would be best if he did not drink it until he was out of the boy's sight. More importantly, he would have to wait until it wore off to enter the house. Harry would panic if a seemingly strange man just waltzed into the house.

Making sure everything was in order, including the muggle money and his muggle clothes, Sirius raced back downstairs. The boy was still standing in the same spot, but looking in another direction.

"Err... kid?" Sirius asked quietly. The boy seemed lost in thought. "Harry?"

Harry jumped. "I'm sorry-" he muttered quickly.

Sirius cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Come on," he motioned for Harry to follow him. The boy quickly ran to Sirius's side and then followed him quietly. Sirius led the way upstairs and into the bedroom.

"You're going to be staying here until I can make arrangements for you to meet the man I told you about." Sirius tossed Harry the remote, but his aim was rather off. Harry took a huge step forward and reached out, making a spectacular save.

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"You know how to use it, right?" Sirius asked.

Harry shrugged. "Kind of."

Sirius, grateful that he would not have to figure it out himself, nodded. "I'll be back soon, I think. If you hear anything strange... just stay in here and lock the door."

Harry's expression was unfathomable, and Sirius almost felt like the boy might read minds. He could not deny that he was worried someone might show up to search the house while he was gone, or that he was afraid he might be caught while he was out and that no one would ever know he had left a strange boy sitting in his house, waiting for food.

However, Sirius was unwilling to leave the boy with that rather cryptic remark, so he tried to smile. "Maybe I can bring some movies... cartoons...?" he trailed of, having no real knowledge of those things.

The boy tried to smile too, but neither one was fooling the other.

With a great sigh, Sirius made his way out of the room. What had he gotten himself into?


	7. An Abundance of Waiting

Retrieving food had been much easier than Sirius had expected. He had figured one swig of potion would be enough for about an hour of shopping, but it took Sirius less time than he had anticipated. It might have taken a little longer if he had not merely tossed item after item into the basket, but he had been in a hurry.

Sirius had wanted to hurry home to reduce his exposure, but he certainly had not anticipated sitting on his doorstep as he was currently doing. A little voice in his head, one that often seemed to make itself heard despite his unwillingness to listen to it, suggested that Sirius go inside without waiting for the potion to wear off. The boy probably had not left James' room; there was no need to sit in the sun when he could be inside.

But Sirius ignored the voice. He did not want any more trouble, having to explain things to the boy. Sirius had quite enough with his presence.

At the same time, there was something strange about having the boy there. Sirius felt... redeemed? No, not redeemed. He could never redeem himself. Nevertheless, he felt oddly calm. As long as Sirius kept his mind occupied with getting the boy to safety, his own inner turmoil was put aside.

There was, of course, a downside. As long as Sirius had the boy with him, he could not go out searching for _his_ Harry. Not to mention, if Sirius was caught, he would likely take the blame for that boy's disappearance as well as everything that was already against him.

It was essential that Sirius figure out what he was going to do with the boy. It seemed Dumbledore was his best option, but Sirius was not sure he wanted to trust the old man with Harry. After all, Dumbledore had failed to protect _his_ Harry. Why should Sirius trust him?

Sirius had no one he could turn to, no old friends who might believe him. No one whom he could be certain would look after little Harry. Sirius had another option: the Ministry. But Sirius had less faith in the Ministry than he could have even in Dumbledore. Lily and James would not have been forced to go into hiding if the Ministry had been more competent. If it had not been comprised of a bunch of idiots, they might have gone to work as soon as Harry disappeared. Crouch should have worked on finding Harry instead of imprisoning innocent people. If the imbecile had not been so damn obsessed with his reputation, he might have given Sirius a trial and a chance to prove himself…

Sirius' train of thought was interrupted when he saw movement in the park. The Death Eater was probably long gone, but Sirius did not want to take any chances. He looked down at himself and saw the potion wearing off as his hands became thinner and slightly less wrinkled. Sirius gave a great sigh of relief and stood up, standing in front of the door for only a minute before turning the doorknob. He really should have locked the door. Had he been in that much of a hurry that he had forgotten? Sirius shrugged. What was the point, anyway? No one knew the house was there.

Sirius made his way to the kitchen and set the bags on the table. Feeling daunted at the thought of having to put everything away by hand, Sirius walked quietly to the foot of the stairs and glanced up. Sure that he could risk doing magic; Sirius took out his wand and gave a little wave. Food began coming out of the bags and floating to its proper place. He looked everything over, considering his options. He waved his wand and set the eggs down on the table.

By the time Sirius had charmed the eggs to crack and beat themselves, the food had arranged itself neatly into the shelves. He put cooling charms on some of the more sensitive items and conjured a few things to make their dinner. The kid would have to settle for omelettes.

Sirius frowned. Where _was_ the kid, anyway? With a flick of his wand, he stopped the fork that was beating the eggs.

"Harry?" Sirius called out, his voice strangely croaky.

No answer.

With his wand ready, Sirius climbed up the stairs as quietly as he could. The door to James' room was open, and light was pouring out of the room and into the dark hallway, changing colours in such a way that Sirius thought people might be duelling inside. When the light changed to a bright green colour, Sirius almost ran into the room. It took him a minute to remember colour televisions, and to realize the light must be coming from it. He waved his wand and the lights came on, lessening the effect.

Sirius frowned. Other than the light from the television, there seemed to be no indication that anyone was in the room. No sound, nothing. The house was much too quiet, especially since there was supposed to be a four year old in the house. Wand still ready, he walked towards the room quietly.

It was empty.

Sirius cursed. Loudly.

A little blond head popped out from the other side of the bed, effectively shutting Sirius up.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't get on the bed. It's rather high, and-"

Sirius glanced at the bed. It was entirely too tall, having a double mattress. James, who Sirius had always thought was rather spoiled, had insisted on having a great majestic bed just like the one he had in his room while growing up. He had not given up on this notion until after he had married Lily, and even then only because Lily fell off the bed on their first week as a married couple.

Sirius shook his head to clear it. He did not have time to be dwelling on the past. He considered using magic to fix it, but thought the boy might wonder.

"I...uh... I brought something for you to watch. It's downstairs, though. I brought them since they looked like very interesting cartoons."

The boy's eyes lit up and he seemed to forget his shyness for a second. "Really? What are they about?"

Sirius thought fast. "Uh... well, I don't want to ruin them for you."

Truth was Sirius had not even checked if they were age appropriate. In fact, he had decided which ones to buy based on how colourful the drawings on the box were. "Listen, we're having omelettes for dinner. What do you want on yours? Cheese? Sausage?"

Harry sat up straight, quite formal all of a sudden. "I suppose sausage would be fine, thank you."

A smile almost escaped Sirius, but instead he nodded and headed towards the door. "Sausage omelette, then. I have to warn you, I haven't cooked in years."

"What did you eat then?"

"What?" Sirius stopped and turned towards Harry, who quickly lowered his gaze.

"I'm sorry. Matt didn't like it when I asked questions either."

Sirius frowned, oddly reluctant to be compared to the Matt fellow. "I had a teacher who encouraged me to always ask questions. There's nothing wrong with it."

"Matt used to say stupid questions shouldn't be asked."

"Well, Matt can be wrong too. You should never be afraid to ask questions. Maybe knowing the answer will be important."

Harry seemed to ponder that all the way down the stairs. When they reached the kitchen he took a seat at the small table and was careful not to put his elbows on the table. Matt had had always hated that. Sirius went about, making the omelettes, and for a while neither of them spoke.

"So it's good to ask questions, right?"

"Err... most of the time, yes."

"Well, then, who are you?"

"I'm... That is to say, my name is…" Sirius thought for a moment. How could he possibly answer that? "Charlie Brown."

The boy was about to say something when he spotted the movies on the table. He gave them an odd look, but did not pick them up and Sirius thought nothing of it. He set two plates on the table and sat down.

"How old are you, kid?" Sirius asked as he looked the boy up and down. He could tell he was making the boy uncomfortable, but he needed to know.

"Uh... I'm six."

Sirius stared. Six? The boy was just the right age, too… but he was much too small for his age. Sirius had a sudden and oddly irresistible urge to stuff him full of food. Ignoring it, he picked up a fork. "What did you eat with Matt?"

Harry shrugged and tasted the omelette.

"Good?" Sirius asked.

Harry nodded, and Sirius, who now had reason to believe the omelette was edible, took a bite.

"How come you haven't cooked in years?"

Sirius' eyebrows shot up. "I've been... gone."

"Oh," Harry answered simply. "Gone where?"

Sirius stifled a groan and answered, "I was in a different place, but I'm back now."

"Like a vacation?"

"Of sorts, I guess," Sirius answered awkwardly.

"So you didn't have to cook? That must've been nice," Harry said musingly.

"It wasn't really."

"Oh."

Silence.

"What's going to happen to me?" Harry finally said after a while.

"Uh... I'm not sure." Sirius answered frankly. He could only hope the boy would have a better future now than he would have had otherwise. And that Sirius had not been mistaken and kidnapped a boy with eccentric relatives.

"What's going to happen to the other man?" Harry asked, now fiddling with his fork and pushing the eggs around the plate.

Sirius looked up. "What other man?"

"The one Matt fought with before I came here."

Sirius almost wanted to laugh at Harry's delicate way of referring to his uprooting.

"We won't really know until someone talks to Matt and finds out where your parents are. But I think he'll be fine."

Sirius wanted to set the boy's mind at ease, but he had no clear cut answer for him. Normally, Sirius would probably have looked into it himself. The boy's question, however, gave him an idea. It was definitely risky, but if all went well, the boy would be safe with Dumbledore and he, Sirius, would be searching for his godson in less than forty-eight hours. They both finished their omelettes in silence.

Once Sirius was finished clearing the table, he handed the tapes to Harry, who only looked at him in a puzzled manner.

"Just figure it out on your own."

"What if I break something?"

"It doesn't matter, I'll fix it. But don't stay up all night watching those." Sirius, though feeling self-conscious at the familiar gesture, ruffled up the kid's untidy hair to make up for his lack of attention.

Harry nodded and headed up the stairs with the tapes while Sirius made his way to the writing desk in the drawing room.

Sirius would have to be very careful. He picked up a quill and began writing.

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_I believe I know something that may interest you. I have a child with me by the name of Harry. While I cannot tell you how this came to pass, I_ can _tell you that the child was in the company of what I believe to be a Death Eater. The boy knows nothing of his family or past, and I have reason to believe he was kidnapped at an early age._

_I also have reason to believe there is renewed activity among former Death Eaters._

_While I am not sure if the boy is a wizard or not, I believe it is in your best interest to meet him and evaluate the situation._

Sirius re-read his letter, trying to see if he had written anything that might give him away. He was sure it would have to do so he hastily scribbled a meeting place and time. He chose a muggle café inside a large shopping centre some distance from his house; he was not eager go to any place where there might be a large number of wizards present. It also had the advantage of being a full hour away from the Manor, enough of a distance that Dumbledore would not make the connection between Sirius' old house and the meeting place. Dumbledore would, presumably, not be armed in front of all those muggles, and Sirius would be able to blend into the crowd and watch from a distance.

As for the time, Sirius was torn between the next day and the day after that. He knew, of course, that the boy was in a reasonable amount of danger while he was with him. On the other hand, though he hated to admit it, Sirius was remembering what it was like to have human company, especially the company of someone who did not judge or fear him. It would be cruel to the boy, he reasoned, to make him feel unwanted and like he was being shunted off to some other place after all he had been through.

Furthermore, there was still a chance that Sirius had overreacted. Perhaps he should find out where the boy lived and wander out in his Animagus form. If he truly found something, he could give Dumbledore more details. Yes, he would need at least one more day.

The only problem then would be the boy. There was no way Sirius was going to risk going out without the Polyjuice Potion; he would have to think of something to explain his change in appearance.

It was truly ironic, Sirius mused, that he had a six year old boy named Harry in his custody. One with no discernible past, no less, when Sirius should be looking for a similar specimen. But this boy was entirely too different from the one Sirius was looking for. Sirius had seen Harry in the ruins of the house, had seen the gash on his forehead that Sirius knew would never heal properly.

Yes, it was ironic to be point of being cruel. The boy's name was probably not Harry at all.

Perhaps the boy knew more, thought Sirius. Some small detail he had failed to mention. Sirius himself felt like he was stumbling around in the dark. He had been gone for so many years and knew nothing of current events in the wizarding world.

Sirius ran up the stairs, determined to find out more about the boy's home and situation. He opened the door quietly, and found the boy sleeping on the rug. Sirius sighed and with a quick spell managed to remove much of the dust that had settled on the bed after his earlier cleaning efforts. It had been over five years since anyone had lived in the house, and Sirius could not seem to get rid of the thick layer of dust that covered everything. The curtains were already drawn, shutting out the fading sunlight.

Sirius pulled back the covers on the bed and picked up the small boy, setting him down carefully and removing his shoes. The boy curled up into fetal position and Sirius covered him with the blankets. For the second time since Sirius had found the boy, he felt like he had seen him before. His face was oddly familiar. And now, in James's old room, Sirius could almost swear that the kid looked like him. Sirius lifted his hand slowly and swept the blond bangs away from the boy's unblemished forehead once more.

Disgusted with himself, Sirius turned around and left the room.

Sirius was awoken sometime before dawn by a slight thumping sound. Mostly unencumbered by sleep now, he frowned and grabbed his wand from the nightstand. Sitting up as quietly as he could, he listened for something -anything- that might indicate someone other than himself, was in the Manor. The house was dead quiet, and just as Sirius was contemplating going back to sleep, he heard another loud thump coming from James's room.

Wand ready, Sirius jumped off the bed and rushed out of his bedroom and into the bedroom next door. The boy was crumbled on the floor.

"Ow."

Sirius could not help but grin as he put his wand away before Harry could see it. "What happened?"

Though he took the hand Sirius extended, the boy did not look up, obviously embarrassed. "I woke up and needed to use the toilet, but I forgot how tall this bed is. I grabbed on to the head-thing, but then I just kind of... slipped. I don't even know how I _got_ on the bed, which kind of explains why I almost fell off, since I wasn't expecting to be on it."

Sirius nodded understandingly and smiled. He would have to do something about the bed, perhaps lower it while the boy was there.

"You wanted to use the bathroom?" Sirius asked as he handed Harry his shoes.

Harry nodded.

Sirius opened the door, led the boy outside, and pointed to a door at the end of the hall. He had not yet cleaned that bathroom, but Sirius doubted there was anything dangerous inside. Besides, the boy did not seem to be too curious. Sirius turned back to the bed and muttered an incantation to shorten the bed.

Nothing.

Sirius frowned. His wand could not be malfunctioning, could it? He closed his eyes, concentrating hard, and tried it again; still no effect on the bed.

Sirius then pointed the wand in question at the television and switched it on with a flick. He turned his wand on several of the toys he had transfigured earlier, both shrinking and enlarging as he went. The wand seemed to be working fine.

A genuine smile came over Sirius' face. James.

Of course. How many times had Sirius threatened to shrink that bed? The prat had probably charmed it somehow to make it impervious to shrinking charms.

Sirius sighed and conformed himself with transfiguring another horrible pink cushion into a stool for the boy to use. All the different things he had transfigured probably would not last very long, but they would last at least until Harry left. Sirius would hate for everything to convert back while the boy was still there. That would be very hard to explain, and disastrous because Harry seemed to be terrified of magic.

Sirius heard the flushing of the toilet and the soft footsteps heading towards the room. The boy- (Harry!) Sirius corrected himself- poked his head into the room, saw Sirius, stepped fully inside. In a curious display of energy Harry ran towards the bed and jumped onto the bed, using the stool as a stepping point at the last minute. He sat and turned to look at Sirius smiling almost expectantly.

Sirius smiled back and made to sit on the bed. The boy moved over slightly to give him room to sit.

"You didn't watch any of the television things I brought you?"

"I don't know how to put it on." Harry answered simply.

Sirius frowned. "Right… maybe we can figure them out tomorrow, right now it is best if you sleep."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sleepy, I don't know why."

Sirius yawned in complete disagreeance. "I suppose it's because you fell asleep so early, but it's not quite time to get up yet."

"I promise I won't make any noise. I'll just wait here until you wake up again," Harry said, grabbing a toy motorcycle from the nightstand and pretending it was flying through the air in front of him.

Sirius could not help but smile. "You know, I feel pretty rested too. Do you want me to stay and watch these for a little bit and see if you fall asleep?"

Harry looked up and smiled. "Yeah, okay! And maybe we could have snacks? But only if you don't mind," he added hurriedly.

"I don't know that I have too much in the way of snacks… I think I bought some biscuits earlier. I'll bring them up if you want."

Harry was looking at Sirius so curiously that it was unnerving him. Finally he smiled again and shook his head. "No, I'm alright."

Sirius picked up one of the tapes and went to work figuring it out. "I wanted to tell you earlier," Sirius said casually, "I found the man I told you about. The one that will help look for your family."

"Oh, is he coming tomorrow?"

"Err… no. He can't come here, you're going to go see him." Sirius answered, preoccupied with lifting a flap on the blasted muggle contraption and trying to look inside.

"Why is this man so important?" Harry asked.

"Well, Dumbledore knows a lot of people. He can find out if your parents… I mean, he'll find someone to take care of you."

"Will it take long?"

Sirius stopped and turned around to look at Harry. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "It might. If the man you saw was lying and your godfather didn't do anything wrong then…" Sirius trailed off awkwardly. Harry should not be returned to his guardian in any scenario.

The boy seemed to be reading his mind. "But you think Matt was bad, don't you? Because you didn't take me back to his house."

Sirius suddenly felt he understood. "Do you want to go back?"

Harry lowered his head. "I don't know if Matt would want me to come back after what happened. I think I was pretty bad. But if he didn't mind… do you think my parents will let me see him?"

Sirius was quite at a loss for words.

Harry, however, seemed to have more than enough words for the two of them; mostly in the form of questions. "Is everyone nice like you? If they think someone is bad or that something is wrong do they help? Is that just what people do?"

Sirius could only continue to stare, which quickly made Harry uncomfortable and the boy lowered his head again.

The following minutes were filled with an uncomfortable silence while Sirius half-heartedly fiddled with the tapes and thought about the poor boy's situation. Sirius could hardly believe Harry was so trusting, so optimistic about his possibly non-existent family, and so desperate for the approval of a man who might have been the one to take him from his parents in the first place. And just when Sirius thought he could not feel any worse, the boy spoke again.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" was Sirius' startled response.

Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure. But you're not happy. And I could never make Matt happy either. There's something wrong with me, that's why my family didn't look for me. Maybe I didn't make them happy either."

"No, Harry. You don't know why your family isn't around. Maybe they just don't know where you are."

Harry nodded. "Maybe."

Sirius walked back to the bed and sat next to Harry again. He knew exactly how the boy must feel, but he did not know how to make it better. Finally he settled on putting his arm around Harry's shoulders and pulling him closer for a friendly half-hug. "The best way to make the people around you happy," Sirius began, "is to be happy yourself. And if Matt wasn't happy it was his fault, not yours."

Harry looked up at Sirius and nodded.

Sirius pulled his arm away uncomfortably and took advantage that Harry was not looking to grab his wand behind his back and point it at the muggle invention he had been messing with. Lights flickered on and it spat out the tape.

"Oh, look," said Sirius, changing the subject, "I think it's working."

Sirius walked back to the television and resumed his task, inserting the tape according to the arrows on the flaps.

"So what's going to happen to me while this man looks for my parents?" Harry hesitated. "Will you… I mean, can I stay here?"

Sirius groaned inwardly. Harry was a great kid, certainly, but Sirius could not stay and play parent to him. Not only was Sirius in the worst possible conditions to raise a child; he also had a purpose of his own. Letting Harry stay with him would not do the boy any favours. It was likely he had a family somewhere, looking for him. And he, Sirius, had some searching of his own to do.

"The thing is, Harry," Sirius decided honesty was the best policy, "the man that is going to help you doesn't like me, and so we're not going to tell him you were with me. I have a friend who is going to come here to pick you up and take you to him." Sirius paused, for this was the part he had been worried about. "And then he'll find someone that you can stay with."

"Oh," was Harry's simple reply.

The television finally came to life, and Sirius saw colourful figures moving around the screen.

"But we don't have to worry about that until later, because tomorrow you're going to stay here and…" Sirius searched for something to say, "Maybe we can go buy you a radio."

Harry did not look at him, but Sirius heard what he suspected was a giggle. Sirius moved back to the bed and sat down. "Agreed?"

Harry nodded and leaned back against the pillows.

Sirius stayed with Harry, though he did not know why. They both sat quietly and watched the television until the boy had fallen asleep. Then Sirius, tired from everything that had happened since the night Lily and James had died, shuffled wearily back to his room and collapsed on the bed.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

He ran.

It was all he could do; run.

He had no choice; it was not safe anymore. He wished he could transform and make better progress, but it was impossible. Someone might recognize him, and then it would all be shot to hell. He almost cursed his small Animagus form, but then he remembered how handy it had come in before. In fact, he would not be alive now if it had not been for his rat form.

Still, he wished he was making better time.

He did not know where to go exactly. Everyone believed him a traitor; they would kill him as soon as they laid eyes on him.

But Peter needed to convince the right people. There had been a noticeable rise in dark activity, and if the Dark Lord was returning, he would know that the Ministry had captured the wrong man. His master would know that Peter had run and abandoned him, and his master would hunt him down.

Though he was less than eager to face his old friends, it was better late than never.

Not to mention Sirius Black had escaped. And after his last encounter, Peter knew Sirius would kill him. But Peter was not going to give him the satisfaction. He had to find someone to protect him.

Lucius Malfoy had never been hot-tempered, and he was Peter's best chance. Malfoy was even tempered, but he was also cold blooded and manipulative. There was a chance he would listen to Peter, but there was no guarantee that he would not pull out his wand and _Crucio_ him. In some aspects he was worse than the other, more extreme, followers of the Dark Lord.

Still, Peter would rather explain himself to someone like Malfoy than someone like Bellatrix. The latter had always been crazy and unhinged, and Peter knew it from experience; he had felt her wrath before. Thank heaven she was in Azkaban.

As soon as that thought came, however, Peter was struck by the irony of it. Heaven...?

He had all but aligned himself with the devil.

Nonetheless, he was grateful that Bellatrix was not around to spoil his plans. By the time she got out of Azkaban, for he was sure she and all of the Dark Lord's loyal followers would be broken out as soon as he resurfaced, Peter would have earned the trust of Malfoy and all the other important players in their little game. Even the Dark Lord would reward him.

Bellatrix would not be able to touch Peter... if everything went according to plan.


	8. A Burnt Breakfast and A Lesson in Fun

Albus Dumbledore often woke up very early to stacks of letters from his many correspondents, but his letters were seldom as interesting as they were that morning. For one thing, the Minister of Magic was under the impression that Dumbledore had the answer to every question he could possibly have. Secondly, Dumbledore was receiving very troubling reports from several sources about what could signal a rise in dark activity. But perhaps the most worrisome of all was the lack of correspondence from another old friend and former colleague, Gary Sanders, who had taken time off from his job at the Ministry to visit a former student and had not returned nor been heard from.

Indeed, Dumbledore sensed something was wrong. He had asked Colin Grant, an old friend and Ministry Auror, to look into Sanders' whereabouts. Grant had gathered information from friends and family that suggested the old friend Sanders had gone to visit was someone by the name of Matthew Reid.

Sanders had taught at Hogwarts for a few years, yet Dumbledore had not found any records of a Matthew Reid in the school. Dumbledore had made an inquiry at the Ministry on the matter, but was still awaiting a reply. It seemed to be of great importance because Dumbledore had not been able to locate Colin Grant since he had received his owl days before, naming Matthew Reid as the person Sanders had gone to see and promising to find out who he was.

Yes, the situation was certainly disturbing.

A firm knock on his office door announced the arrival of a visitor, and Dumbledore quickly bade them in. Much to his surprise, the person who entered was another Ministry Auror, Alastor Moody.

"Dumbledore," Moody said shortly, limping into the room. In addition to his magical eye, it seemed he had acquired a wooden leg.

"Alastor Moody," Dumbledore announced cheerfully, "It has been a while, old friend."

"I've been on assignment," Moody growled as he looked around with his magical eye and took a seat. "Fudge is convinced that there are no more dark wizards out there posing a threat to us, but I know better."

"Indeed," replied Dumbledore softly.

"I came back after I heard about Sirius Black escaping and I saw you made an inquiry about someone named Matthew Reid. Of course, those idiots at the Ministry can't make heads or tails of what little information they do have."

"But you can," Dumbledore said firmly, leaning forward in his seat.

"Yeah, I looked into it some. The man you are looking for is Matthew Lennox, he attended Hogwarts only one year. Pureblood mother and father, but she died before the end of his first year and the father went mad, or so they say. He shut himself away until he met a muggle woman and turned his back on the wizarding world. Pulled the boy out of Hogwarts and made him live as a muggle until the new wife murdered him in his sleep years later."

"Of course," whispered Dumbledore. "I remember young Lennox, and the scandal. How did you make the connection?"

"It wasn't hard," grunted Moody, "once I knew where to look. Lennox was sixteen when his father died. Too old to go back to Hogwarts, so he presented his case to the Ministry, trying to get approval to practice and teach himself Magic even though he was underage. Your old friend Sanders helped him prepare an appeal, but they denied it. I found all the documentation, along with another file dated almost two years later when Lennox took his Apparition test and took on his mother's name, Reid."

Dumbledore stood up and began pacing. "So the question remains. How did Matthew Lennox, or rather, Matthew Reid, become fully qualified in the space of two years, having been deprived of a magical education?"

"There are no more records of him. Sanders must have made an impression on him as a kid because he was the first person Reid reached out to after the father died. When the Ministry rejected his request, Sanders offered to help Reid once he was of age. It was in the file too, that Sanders vouched for him. His wife says they corresponded for a while, but eventually lost touch."

"Does Colin Grant know all this?"

"I doubt Colin Grant knows much of anything," Moody scoffed, "he's probably dead. Hasn't been to work in days."

"I feared as much," responded Dumbledore, sitting again.

"I hope I'm wrong, but Grant didn't do his homework before setting off to look for Sanders. Talked to the wife and some people he worked with, but didn't bother to do the thing properly. I searched Sanders' study and found some of his old letters. I can't be sure but it seems Reid went on to make some powerful friends. By the time they stopped corresponding it seems Reid had grown tired of Sanders lecturing him about the company he kept."

"Death Eaters," said Dumbledore simply.

"I suspect so. I found the draft of a letter dated a couple of days after Black's escape, addressed to Reid. The draft, at least didn't say much. He wanted to meet."

Dumbledore nodded. "I can imagine Gary was afraid Matthew would fall back into the old ways if Voldemort rose again, aided by Black."

Moody nodded. "Something happened that Sanders did not return. And neither did Grant. I've been thinking it's possible that Sanders was too late and Reid is already hiding Sirius Black. If Reid replied to Sanders' owl and told him his location, that letter fell into Grant's possession and unless we find him, we're at a dead end."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Yes, it seems we are. I will be honest, Alastor, and tell you I am very worried. I received a letter this morning from an old friend abroad about a local boy who got lost deep in the forest. He reappeared weeks later, unharmed, but very changed. Further inquiry revealed that the boy was being possessed, but no one is sure by what. Before measures could be taken and anything could be investigated, the boy disappeared again, and was found days later, on the verge of death."

"And this far off country is surely the last place Voldemort was rumoured to have been."

Dumbledore nodded. "It is beginning to seem more likely that Voldemort is growing stronger. Perhaps Black perceived it and it was this that prompted his escape."

"Now if you can only convince Fudge. He's under the impression that he'll finally be able to sleep at night now that he declared Potter dead."

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Sirius woke up to the smell of something burning. He opened one eye slowly trying to see if he was in any immediate danger. Deciding that he had a few more minutes to sleep before his house burned down, Sirius closed his eyes lazily and pulled the sheets over his head. He almost cursed the kid for having awoken him the previous night.

The kid, Harry.

Burning.

Sirius jumped out of bed and was out of his room in the blink of an eye. The door to James' room was wide open, but it was empty. Sirius rushed downstairs into the kitchen, and found the boy standing by the toaster with what Sirius assumed had been slices of bread in his hands. Sirius sighed and tapped the toaster with his wand.

"I thought you had burnt the house down," Sirius muttered. Needless to say, he was cranky. He had slept at least ten hours, but he was so tired...

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to bother you, and I thought I should have breakfast ready before you came down."

"This is breakfast?" Sirius asked, looking at the blackened rocks in Harry's hand.

"Well, it doesn't usually come out like this."

Sirius shrugged it off, and with a wave of his wand, cleaned up the mess. Harry looked at him, eyes wide, and Sirius realized what he had done.

Sirius resisted the urge to curse. "Err... do you want hotcakes?" he asked, trying to get the boy to forget what he had just seen.

The strategy seemed to work, because the boy's eyes lit up. "Sure! Do you need help?"

Sirius shook his head. He really had no idea how to make them from scratch, so he was counting on being able to use his wand.

"Err... how about you go upstairs and make your bed instead. They'll be ready by the time you come down."

The boy nodded and ran upstairs. Sirius knew it would take the boy forever to make the bed, but he could hardly continue to use his wand in front of him. Not only was Harry terrified of it; there was always a small chance the boy was a muggle.

Sirius went to work with breakfast, making short work of it. Less than half an hour later he went up the stairs to fetch the boy as there was no use in making him finish the bed. It had been a jerky thing to do, seeing as the boy probably did not know how to make a bed and was only just taller than it. When Sirius got to the room, however, he was greeted with the sight of Harry putting the finishing touches on the bed. It was sloppy, but likely better than anything Sirius would have been able to do.

"How did you do it?" Sirius asked.

"I used the stool you brought yesterday."

Sirius looked down at the stool. He could have sworn it was at least three times larger than the one he had provided the kid with only hours earlier. He wondered just how skewed his perception of things had to have been to have forgotten what he had transfigured.

"Well, breakfast is done. Do you want to eat now?"

Harry nodded and followed Sirius out of the room. Halfway down the hall, Sirius glanced back at the room and noted the same stool was, again, three times too small. Perhaps he just needed a drink.

Breakfast was quiet. Harry was too busy enjoying the novelty of hotcakes to discuss anything, and Sirius was trying to find a way to get more information out of him. It seemed Harry had not eaten hotcakes in a while because he seemed to be rather pleased with them, and even asked for seconds. Sirius, on the other hand, knew the hotcakes were far from exceptional because he had as much culinary talent as a beanstalk.

No, that was technically not true. Beanstalks were plants, and plants lived off of their own food.

"So, Harry," Sirius was saying despite himself, "what do you want to do today?"

"I don't know," Harry replied absently as he dropped a dollop of jelly on his plate, "what do you want me to do?"

Sirius thought for a moment. All he really had to do was mail the letter to Dumbledore. But Sirius was not sure there was anything he and Harry could do that would not make him feel like he was on a play date.

"Well, it's probably not a good idea to leave the house, but we could…" Sirius searched his head for ideas, "clean." he finished lamely. What did muggle children enjoy?

Probably not cleaning.

"Okay," replied Harry, seemingly unperturbed.

Sirius frowned. "That doesn't sound like a lot of fun, does it? We should do something fun."

Sirius felt that if Harry had been a puppy, his ears would have perked up. "Together?"

"Well, sure. What sounds fun?"

Harry looked hopefully at Sirius. "I've always wanted to go to school."

Sirius smiled despite himself. "You can't go to school for only one day."

Harry nodded, looking understanding.

"So," continued Sirius, "why do you want to go to school? I liked school when I was older, but when I was your age, all I wanted to do was learn how to play quidditch and sneak off with my father's wand to try to-" Sirius stopped abruptly. The odds that the child was a muggle were very slim, and even if it were so, they would need to cast a memory charm on him anyway, considering all he had seen. Perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to try to introduce Harry to magic so things did not come as a shock to him later on.

Harry was looking at him intently, waiting for him to continue. Sirius could not help but to feel like he was doing the right thing; he almost felt like taking the boy had been his good deed for the day. The satisfaction he derived from it was almost enough to drown out the guilt that arose from his putting off the search for what he had begun to think of as the _real_ Harry.

Sirius sighed and looked at Harry seriously. "Harry, do you remember telling me that your godfather had a wa- Er… a stick that he pointed at people?"

Harry nodded and his eyes flickered to where Sirius kept his wand under his robe.

"Well," began Sirius, "it's called a wand. All wizards have them, and they're not bad things at all. They help you do things."

Harry said nothing, so Sirius went on. "Wands only do what you want them to do. If you want to hurt someone, then you use them to hurt that person. But you can also use them to do good things, or protect yourself from people that want to hurt you. You can do useful things too, or even fun things."

"You have one too. You pointed it at Matt and he fell down," Harry said, and for the first time Sirius thought he heard resentment.

"I did," Sirius admitted, "but he was going to do something worse if I didn't stop him. I didn't hurt him, I only made it so he couldn't come after us."

Harry did not look at Sirius, but stared off into the distance. "So Matt only did bad things with it?"

"Well, I don't know. But I can tell you that the things you say Matt did are things that no wizard is supposed to do." Sirius pulled out his wand slowly and set it down on the table in between them. Harry only looked at it curiously until Sirius said, "You can pick it up if you want to look at it."

Harry reached forward tentatively and picked it up by the handle, holding it between two fingers. Instinctively he then shifted his fingers and clutched the handle. Making sure to point away from Sirius, he extended his arm out slowly.

The toaster caught on fire. So much for the boy being a muggle.

Harry yelled and dropped the wand, but Sirius was more than amused. He walked to the other side of the table, calmly picked up the wand and put the fire out with a stream of water that came out of the tip.

"Were you a little mad at the toaster for burning your breakfast earlier?" Sirius joked.

Harry was looking at him with nothing short of amazement and Sirius was afraid he had only made things worse.

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly, "I didn't mean to do that."

"Don't be. It takes a while for people to learn how to control their powers."

Sirius used his wand to levitate the milk and pour it into Harry's glass. Harry picked up the glass and stuck his finger in the milk as if to make sure it was real. "Oh," he said simply.

Sirius was beginning to have fun, and soon enough he had summoned Harry's toy motorcycles and was making them race each other across the kitchen table. Much to Sirius' relief, Harry was enjoying the show. Harry had left his seat and was running around the kitchen table, setting obstacles in the motorcycles' paths and watching them swerve at the last minute. Sirius flicked his wand and the motorcycles sped off again toward the edge of the table. Harry gasped and threw himself forward trying to catch them before they fell, but they took flight at the last minute and soared around the room.

Harry stared at Sirius, a huge grin on his face. "You're doing that?"

Sirius nodded and pointed his wand at the toys, bringing them all back down to the table. Harry reached forward and grabbed one of the now stationary motorcycles, staring at it in amazement. Its tiny headlights flashed once and the wheels turned rapidly, startling Harry who dropped it onto the table again. Harry let out a childish giggle and looked up at Sirius, who merely smiled.

"Will I learn how to do that when I go to school?"

Sirius shrugged. "I suppose, but you won't be able to do anything like that for a long time."

Harry smiled and sat back down to focus on his hotcakes once more. Both sat in silence for a few minutes, until Harry set down his fork and looked at Sirius, who had also resumed eating.

"Charlie?"

"Who? Err… yes?"

Harry looked troubled. "Well," he said nervously, "I was… Could you write a letter to Matt for me? Just to let him know I'm okay?"

Sirius stared at Harry for a minute. "You want to write a letter to him?"

"Just a small note," Harry said quickly, "but if you can't-"

"No," said Sirius, "I can… I can help you write a letter." Sirius pushed his plate away. He could write the letter and pretend to mail it. It would give him an excuse to leave the house later to contact Dumbledore.

Harry smiled at Sirius as he stuffed the last of his breakfast in his mouth. He stood up quickly and picked up Sirius' plate, stacking it on top of his own and taking them both back to the kitchen sink. "Do you have soap?"

"Err… somewhere. Don't worry about that, I'll take care of it later. Why don't you think about what you want to write to Matt and I'll get you some parchment and a quill."

"Matt hasn't taught me how to read or write." Harry answered quietly.

Sirius frowned. "Well, that's no problem. Plenty of kids your age don't know how to. I have a quill that will help you write whatever you tell it to." Or, at the very least he could make one.

Sirius left Harry in the kitchen while he went to his desk to fetch the parchment. He wanted Harry to write to Matt freely. It was unlikely that the boy was hiding anything, but perhaps there was something he had not thought to mention. Not to mention the boy probably had a lot to say to his godfather.

As a matter of fact, Sirius had a lot to say to him too.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Matthew paced back and forth in the living room. He knew it was not safe to contact Adam before 3 p.m., but the clock seemed to be dragging on mercilessly. What was he going to do?

The boy was gone. Vanished. There was absolutely no trace of him, as far as Matthew could tell.

How he regretted having taken on such a responsibility. Matthew owed Adam everything. Adam had taught him everything he needed to know; had introduced him to everybody he need to meet. Had helped Matthew get rid of his idiot father who refused to displease the muggle woman he had married. And when the time came, Adam had personally recommended Matthew for a job so important that he could hardly refuse.

The plan had originally been to take the boy from the Potters and to bring him to the Dark Lord, but the boy had been the end of their master. The first hour after the Dark Lord's downfall had been nerve-racking. No one knew exactly what the signs meant. Had the Dark Lord been defeated, or merely weakened? They could not communicate, for to know of the events before the world at large would be damning evidence if they were caught and sent to trial.

Hours had passed and Matthew realized the situation he had found himself in. The Dark Lord was defeated, his followers surely scattered, and he himself had barely dipped his feet into the whole affair. And most importantly, Matthew was a fully fledged wizard with his whole life ahead of him. Torturing filthy muggles was great and all, but Matthew liked to avoid killing magic folk, even mudbloods.

He would no longer have to serve a master who unnerved him so, a man who demanded loyalty to himself above all else; a master that had made it very clear that he considered Matthew to be his sole property.

And so Matthew Reid had thought he was free. He did not know very many of the Dark Lord's other supporters, and they did not know him. Just as their master had intended, most all maintained their anonymity. And the illusion had continued for several hours, until Adam had shown up unannounced with a dark bundle in his arms.

"_Why did you bring him? What can possibly be gained with this abduction? If the Dark Lord is gone, we have nothing to gain from this!"_

"_We don't know if he is truly gone! The Dark Lord had planned for us to bring him the boy before the spy finally came through. He must have been double crossed! I suspected it, but I was too late. When I saw the boy had survived, I had to act!"_

"_Well, what will you do now? It'll be your head if they discover you."_

"_They won't, everything was in place from the original plan. Listen, if we keep the brat alive until the Dark Lord returns, we will be honoured above all others, including Malfoy!"_

"_We? Are you listening to yourself? How long until he returns, if he returns?"_

"_It doesn't matter, Matthew! We can find out what was so special about this boy that the Dark Lord was so intent on killing him. He must have some kind of power, and we can find out what it is. I need you to keep the boy."_

"_Me? You know I'll do damn near anything you ask of me, Adam, but I can't do that. Why should I take all the risk? Why don't you keep him?"_

"_Dammit, Matthew! No one knows who you are! You have lived among muggles before and can do it again. They will never find you. I will seek out the Dark Lord and when he returns, we will be his favourites."_

But years had passed and Matthew could only assume Adam had given up hope and stopped searching. Matthew, who had never had much to begin with, was forced to once again hide amongst muggles and let life pass him by. A bell chimed.

3 o'clock.

Matthew threw the floo powder into the grate and called Adam, whose head appeared within seconds.

"Dammit, 3 o'clock on the dot? Matthew, is something wrong?"

"Yes, Adam, very wrong. The boy is gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone! He saw that Auror, Grant. I told you I needed him picked up as soon as possible! Now he's gone and we have-"

"Slow down!" Adam snarled. "Grant ran off with the boy?"

"No, Grant escaped. That's not worst of it, though."

"What do you mean that's not the worst of it? He'll go back to Dumbledore and alert him-"

"The boy ran off on his own, and right into the arms of another wizard." Matthew replied bitterly.

"Who did he run into? What are you talking about?"

"Harry ran from me as soon as I tried to cast a memory charm. I chased him all the way to the park, and next thing I know I'm laying in the middle of the park, still dressed in my robes."

"So you were stunned by someone? I can't be sure, but if we had found him, I would know! And I haven't heard anything. You need to look-"

"I have looked," Matthew snapped. "Someone must have seen me chasing him and stunned me, I have no idea where they went. I have been looking since yesterday afternoon and there doesn't seem to be a single wizard in the area. They may have been here to collect the boy, maybe Grant was smarter than we thought."

"I doubt it," Adam scoffed, "Grant was an Auror, not really one of Dumbledore's men. And you know as well as I that the Ministry stopped searching a long time ago."

Matthew nodded. "They may not have been able to confirm his identity yet and maybe that's why there has not been news. He drank his potion at breakfast yesterday and I re-cast the charm for his scar before he woke up. The potion won't wear off until tomorrow morning, and the spell lasts a week, unless it's removed."

"You should have listened to me, Matthew, and changed the boy's name! You practically gift wrapped the brat for whoever found him."

"There was nothing wrong with his name. When a person-"

"Yes, I've heard your argument before." Adam said impatiently. "Anyway, there's not much to do now. Stay put in case the boy comes back while I make other arrangements for you."

"I don't need you to make arrangements for me. It might just be time for us to go our separate ways."

Adam looked at Matthew intently. "You could be right," he finally answered. "Nonetheless, do me a favour and stay for a couple of days. Should the Ministry suspect anything, I'll send you word and you can run. The boy has certainly been more trouble than he's worth."

"It's been five years, Adam, I agree we should just cut our losses."

"I suspect Malfoy will be disappointed, though. He only recently found out our secret and was ready to take credit. Contact me if anything changes."

Matthew nodded and Adam's head disappeared from the fire.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Sirius left Harry in the upstairs bedroom watching cartoons and made his way downstairs. He had explained to the boy that he was going to send 'Matt' the letter and would be back soon. The boy, always wonderfully understanding, had promised to have the whole alphabet memorized by the time Sirius came back.

Making sure that Harry had not wandered back downstairs, Sirius drank the Polyjuice potion and snuck out the back door where he settled on the steps and opened the letter Harry had written with the Dictating Quill.

_Deer Matt,_

_I know you get mad when I don't listen too you, and I know that you don't like me talking too other people so you're probably really mad at me. But I wanted too tell you that Charlie is really mice, you don't have too worry because he's not one of those bad people in the world that you tell me I have too stay away from. Charlie says he's even going too try too find me my family so I won't bother you any moor. And I just remembered that I haven't taken my medicine but I don't know what its called, and I don't see any warts so maybe it'll be okay for now. Maybe Charlie will know I should ask him. Please don't bee too mad at me for leaving. _

_-Hairy_

Sirius did not know whether to laugh or to be angry. He pulled out his own quill and scribbled an additional sentence at the bottom in his own writing.

_Once the boy is safe at home I will lead the Ministry to you, you piece of scum._

And so, Sirius now had two letters to mail.


	9. A Careless Mistake, An Empty Promise

The past day had been the strangest in Harry's life, hands down. Not even the day he had met Robbie could compete with it, despite all he had learned that day. Sure, Matt had flown off the handle when Harry had asked him if he was his dad, and where his mum was, but Harry did not even want to imagine what Matt would say now if he saw him sitting in Charlie's house, watching the television and eating biscuits indiscriminately.

There were no clocks in the house so Harry did not know what time it was, but Charlie had been gone for a while. It was not dark yet, but Harry was rather anxious to show him his progress. Charlie had written out the letters of the alphabet for Harry. And though he quickly forgot the sounds Charlie had told him they made, Harry was pretty confident that he could place most of them in order. It was harder, he reasoned, because he had not been taking his medicine and his vision would periodically get blurry.

Charlie had also given Harry a quill that wrote down whatever he said, and Harry had written Matt a letter to let him know he was okay. What he really wanted to tell Matt was how excited he was that he now had _two_ friends, something Harry had not thought possible before. But he knew Matt did not want him talking to Robbie anymore (which was kind of pointless since they had moved away) and he knew he would be even more upset about Charlie.

Harry had apologized for running away. A part of him was still afraid of what Matt could do, or had done. And the_ idea_ that he might have another family out there and the longing it caused was enough to make him want to meet the man Charlie had told him about; the man who it seemed to Harry would have all of the answers.

In the meantime all he could do was hope that the other man had been wrong: that Matt had not done anything wrong, and that once Harry found his family, they would all be together and Matt would forgive him.

But the man had seemed so sure…

Harry was beginning to have doubts about this family, and whether they would even want him. Much less Matt.

Harry stifled a yawn and turned off the television. He thought about Robbie, about all those kids at the park who called the ladies 'mum', and about Charlie, who always looked so sad when he thought Harry was not looking.

Without realizing it, Harry started drifting off. He was at the park… at least he thought he was. Charlie was pushing him on the swings and across from them, sitting together and watching him, a lady with long red hair and a man with short black hair and glasses. And, unlike Matt, they were smiling.

And Harry was suddenly lost in dreams of the faceless family he felt he was so close to meeting.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Lucius Malfoy had always been adept at reading the small signs that others tended to miss. He prided himself in this quality for it had helped him many times, especially in his greatest work: his service to the Dark Lord.

But even if Lucius had wanted to, what lay in front of him at that moment was something that would have been impossible to ignore. A rather strange and ruffled owl had arrived that morning carrying a lumpy and clumsily wrapped package. It bore no indication of sender and looked unpleasantly damp. Lucius had unwrapped it warily only to find the decaying body of a snake.

Lucius stood up and walked to the open window. The owl was flying away, but still within reach. Lucius aimed carefully and shouted, "Stupefy!" The owl froze in midair for a second before it began to fall and gather speed on its way down. Lucius followed its descent with his eyes, losing it right as it hit the tree tops.

For an instant, Lucius had been certain that someone was unwisely playing a sick joke. But there was something inside of him that was suddenly uneasy. He prodded the snake with his wand, muttering a spell to reveal any concealed magic, but it seemed there was no trace of magical energy at all. In fact, the snake's head was nearly flat, suggesting it had been killed by something crushing it. As he turned it over, however, he found gashes in its underbelly. It almost looked as if someone had carved letters into it, trying to convey a message.

Lucius looked closer, trying to decipher it, but the snake was decomposing quickly and the skin was covered with decaying organic material. There was simply no way, he thought, that a wizard could resort to something as crude as this.

"Dobby!"

Seconds went by before his house elf appeared standing in front of his desk. "Yes, Master?"

"Somewhere in the woods behind the house there should be an owl on the floor. It might still be alive. Fetch it and don't come back until you have it."

"Dobby will fetch it, sir." The house elf Disapparated with a loud _pop_ and Lucius turned back to the snake. He needed to know where they both had come from, and who had sent them. Lucius frowned as he focused on the writing on the snake's underbelly.

He could almost swear it said "Albania".

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Sirius did not know what time it was when he got home, though he was sure it could not be later than seven. He had reached the house in his Animagus form, not wanting to use up his store of Polyjuice Potion. Sirius had read during his outing earlier in the day that the Ministry secretly believed he was rounding up all former Death Eaters and planning an attack on Hogwarts and/or the Ministry itself. How very mistaken they were.

In any case, the Dementors would not be roaming the streets there as they would undoubtedly be doing in places like Hogsmeade. The Manor of the Messrs was located in a rather nice neighbourhood, Sirius realized as he closed the window. It was mostly, if not all muggles, which was fortunate because it eliminated the possibility of Dementors finding him there. For one thing, even though muggles could not see Dementors, the Ministry would have quite a problem on their hands if one of them attacked a muggle.

Sirius wondered idly if Harry had really memorized the alphabet while he had been off sending the letter to Dumbledore. Finding an owl had been harder than he had anticipated. Deciding he should probably check on the boy, Sirius made his way up the stairs quietly. He opened the door and winced as it creaked rather loudly. One glance inside the room, however, revealed a sleeping Harry. Having long forgotten his earlier thoughts on the boy, Sirius smiled slightly to himself and closed the door.

The outing had been uneventful for Sirius, but had given him time to think. He had finally settled on a plan that placed them in the least amount of danger. Sirius would take the boy on the bus and they would then walk to the café. Granted, it was a long walk, but it was the only way. During breakfast Sirius would tell the boy-Harry, he corrected himself- that he had made arrangements for him to be taken to someone who would help him.

Sirius would also need to dig up a hat of some kind to make the boy less recognizable, in case the boy's godfather was out and about. Sirius had discarded his earlier idea of skulking around the Death Eater's house. He realized that he would first have to find out where it was, a task which could be best accomplished by having Harry show him the house where they had lived. But Sirius had decided not to take the boy out of the house needlessly as he might be risking his safety. And ensuring the boy's safety had become Sirius' immediate concern and the only reason he was not going crazy thinking of how to start the search for the real Harry without a single clue.

They had not had an exceptionally long day, by any means, but the bed in Sirius' bedroom seemed more inviting than usual, and he was determined to take advantage of it. With a little luck, he would finally get a good night's sleep. He kicked off his shoes and looked up as he heard a faint knock.

"It's open." Sirius stared at the door, but nothing happened. He frowned. "Is everything okay, Harry?"

A voice answered through the door. "I just wanted to see if it was you, if you'd gotten back."

"It's unlocked, Harry, come in."

There was a moment's hesitation and Sirius finally heard Harry turn the doorknob and open the door. He remained standing on the doorway. "Are you okay?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah," Harry smiled.

"Come in."

"Oh! Okay." Harry's eyes widened in surprised but he stepped inside nonetheless.

"How did the alphabet go?"

"I forgot all the sounds you told me they make, but I remember where most of them go now."

"Good," Sirius thought for a moment. "Listen, I needed to talk to you. You'll be leaving early tomorrow. I've made arrangements for someone to come and pick you up in the morning and take you to Dumbledore." Harry nodded and Sirius continued, "I have to go somewhere, though, so I won't be here when my friend gets here. You're going to have to go with him on your own."

"How will I know who to go with?"

"Well, he'll come up to the door." Sirius did not know how to explain wards and protection spells, and the fact that no one around them could see the house.

"So you won't be here?" Harry asked, feeling slightly nervous. He was never allowed to open the door and the idea of letting a stranger in the house made him uncomfortable.

Sirius understood, however, remembering Harry's letter and the mention of Matt's warning against 'bad people'. Bloody hypocrite. "I'm sorry, I can't go with you. But I promise nothing bad will happen to you."

Harry smiled nervously. "I know, it's okay."

And for the first time, it really was.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Matthew looked at the parchment in his hand. Fairly old, he could tell, but the writing was recent. The kid had definitely been found by a wizard.

Charlie…

Charles. Charles Prewett? Or perhaps Charles Wood? Charles was too common a name to guess, in any case. But it would be best not to mention the letter to Adam, in case he changed his mind about letting Matt leave the country.

It all came down to the same thing. It was over. The Ministry did not have the boy yet, it seemed, but they soon would. Matthew would have to run, sure, but then he could start over. He would have to wait until Adam gave him the all-clear, so as to settle things amicably and not be followed or hunted.

But then he would be free

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

An unfamiliar screech owl was hovering outside Dumbledore's office window, and with a flick of his wand, Dumbledore let in what he hoped was his last letter for the night.

Dumbledore handed the owl a treat from a small glass bowl in his top drawer and untied the letter from its leg. It took off soundlessly and had flown off into the night before Dumbledore had even unrolled the message it carried. He read through the message twice- three times- before he could fully understand what it meant.

Could it be? It was entirely too much to hope for.

After all, who could possibly have written that letter and not have known about the search for Harry Potter? Whoever had written the letter would have known about the scar... they would have checked. The age of the boy had not been stated either.

It was, after all, not the sort of thing that would slip someone's mind. The letter was, no doubt, untraceable. And the owl was long gone, which meant its origin was doubtful.

It could be a trap. Considering the events of that week, it would not be all that surprising. The day before a group of Death Eaters, Black presumably among them, had attempted to terrorize over two dozen muggles in the underground. The Ministry, however, had stationed people throughout the underground and at the train platforms, expecting a surge of wizards traveling back from the ceremony. The attack had been foiled, and perhaps this was a fresh attempt.

The letter, however, could be authentic. Perhaps the sender had not written more or voiced his suspicions in case the letter fell into the wrong hands. It could not be a joke, for no one could jest so unscrupulously about something like Harry Potter's whereabouts. He had to take the letter seriously, err on the side of caution, rather than risk losing such a lead.

The sender bade Dumbledore meet him at nine the next morning, which Dumbledore fully intended to do accompanied by Remus Lupin, if he could. Dumbledore was also fully aware that to floo him now would be quite useless, as it was too close to the full moon and the subject in question would hardly be in any condition to hear him out. Like everything else, it would have to wait until morning.

The next day Albus Dumbledore was up unusually early. The sun was barely coming up, and already he had received a fair number of owls, but he ignored them all.

"Remus Lupin!" He moved back to his desk and decided to make arrangements for the day while his guest showed up.

Dumbledore was loath to Apparate to a muggle area, but it might be the safest and quickest way. There was also the matter of disguising himself so the muggles would not recognize him. He had donned muggle clothing before, and it did not worry him.

"Professor McGonagall?" he called a second after, throwing more floo powder into the grate. He waited for a couple of minutes before she walked into his office.

"Is there any particular reason for you to call me at such an early hour, Albus?"

"I was quite sure I would not wake you, but excuse me if I have, Minerva."

She waved her hand impatiently. "You know you didn't. I'm always up early. Is something wrong?"

"No, but I am afraid something has come up and I will have to meet someone later today, which means I will be gone for at least the whole morning." Minerva nodded.

"What shall I tell the Minister when he comes by?"

"He will not be here until this evening, if at all, and I should be back by then. If I am not, however, give him my apologies and tell him I will contact him later."

Minerva gave him a curt nod and walked out in such a way that made Dumbledore wonder if she suspected there was a situation she was not being informed about. Once gone, Dumbledore was left alone once more to wait for his visitor. Thirty more minutes passed, but Remus Lupin did not disappoint. He walked into the office looking haggard and worn, and possibly a little more than winded from the brisk walk up to the school.

"You called, Headmaster?"

"Indeed, I did, Remus."

"I'm sorry for the delay, but I'm afraid I-"

"No need for explanations, I assure you. It has not been half an hour since I called you."

Wasting no time, Dumbledore handed the letter to Remus; Remus took it wordlessly and began to read it. His eyes widened in the beginning, then his expression turned into a frown, and he finally settled with looking puzzled.

"The writing seems kind of familiar."

"Does it? Perhaps like Sirius Black's writing?"

A dark expression came over his face. "No, I know it too well, he could be trying to disguise it, but…"

The headmaster nodded and said nothing.

"Will you accompany me?"

"Of course," Remus replied immediately. He took a deep breath and voiced the question he knew Dumbledore must be expecting from him. "Surely it can't be... I mean, it's not...?"

"James and Lily's son? No, I doubt it. Almost every wizard knows his name and even his scar. They would have checked."

Remus nodded. "I had not thought of that."

"The meeting site is in a muggle area, so you will have to go home and dress, but we have plenty of time."

Remus looked at the headmaster, puzzled. "A muggle area?" he looked at the old man's white hair and long beard.

A hint of a smile appeared on the old man's face. "It is not impossible for me to don muggle clothing. Although, I confess that last time I did it, I was perhaps not so gray…"

"But then you are taking the letter at face value? You don't think it could be a trap?"

"The thought has crossed my mind, yes. I could cast a charm so that only those of our kind may see me as I am if it would make you feel better, Remus, but I assure you that anyone who may want to hurt me would not be fooled by it."

"Well, I do think we should take precautions."

Dumbledore shook his head. "You must stop worrying about me, Remus. I feel like instead of taking care of my students, they are all taking care of me. If I have made it safely to my old age, I do not see why you all worry about me going about my daily routine."

Lupin gave him a slight smile.

"In any case," Dumbledore continued, "you should be getting home. Be at the Leaky Cauldron by 8:30, if possible. You may want to have a couple more hours of sleep, we have time until then."

Lupin nodded.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Breakfast had been a rather subdued affair, but Sirius did not mind. After today, he would return to his quest of hunting down answers. Or muggles. And rats.

Harry himself looked a little despondent, which did not puzzle Sirius as much as it should have. It was strange, really, how many reactions and feelings the boy contained in such a small frame. But Sirius could not imagine any child adapting well to the life Harry had presumably lived.

Looking at his old watch (which, surprisingly, still worked) revealed it was a quarter 'til eight. He cleared the dishes and sneaked his Polyjuice potion flask into his pocket. "You'll probably be leaving soon, why don't you go wait in the living room?"

Harry shrugged. "What's his name?"

"Excuse me?"

"The name of the person picking me up."

"Oh... uh... David." Sirius made a note to remember that. It would not do to knock on the door and introduce himself as Mark.

Harry nodded and jumped off his chair, since his feet still did not reach the ground. For the second time, Sirius got the oddest feeling that the boy was much too small; perhaps he had been lied to about his age.

Sirius put his hand on top of the boy's head and ruffled the blond hair slightly. "Take care, okay? Eat more; you're too small. And be good."

Harry nodded and then looked up at Sirius. "You're nicer than Matt."

Sirius grinned, though he was not sure why. "I am?"

"You don't yell like he did, even though I burnt your toaster. And you didn't kill my parents like he did."

Sirius stood there for a second, shocked. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Who told you he killed your parents?" The boy had not mentioned that.

Harry shrugged. "The man that came to our house and tried to take me with him. He said Matt killed my parents. I didn't think it was true, but I don't think he liked them much, because he obviously didn't like me much either. I think Matt said they died in a car crash. If he killed them, then I think maybe he was driving."

"Well, then how do you know it wasn't an accident?" Sirius asked, trying to comfort the boy. The godfather was a Death Eater, and Sirius doubted the boy's parents had died in an accident. It was almost a certainty, then that his parents were dead and the boy might end up in an orphanage, if he had no next of kin.

Harry shrugged. "Well, it's not like it matters, right? If they were alive, they wouldn't want me anymore, would they? Do I get new parents if my real ones are alive but don't want me?"

Sirius shook his head. "If they're alive, they'll definitely want you. And if they're not... well, then there will definitely be someone else that will. They may not be your real parents, but they'll be your family."

"But what if there isn't?"

Sirius ruffled the boy's hair again, absently lifting his bangs to check for a nonexistent scar.

"That won't happen. And if it did, I'd go- I mean, I'd tell David to go pick you up and bring you back here. I'd let you stay here until we found your family or until you decided you wanted to leave." There he went, making yet another promise he would not be able to keep. Sirius felt horrible for lying, and he was so tired of everything...

Harry shook his head, and Sirius could tell the boy actually pitied him. Sirius had a sudden urge to vomit, so he changed the subject. "Well, David should be here soon."

The boy nodded and moved towards the living room, and Sirius left through the front door. He walked around the house and to the back door of the garden where he quickly discarded his robes. Sirius had worn muggle clothing under these to make the whole thing more believable. Harry would not betray him, he knew, but the boy might let something slip in his innocence, and Sirius was not willing to risk his recapture. Sirius waited until the transformation from the Polyjuice Potion was complete and walked to the front door. He heard the door unlock and the boy peeked out.

"You're David?"

Sirius nodded, and the boy came out, closing the door behind him. Neither spoke the whole way, even through the bus ride; in fact not until they had nearly reached the cafe did Sirius break the silence.

"That's where I drop you off." He said, pointing towards the cafe. Sirius spotted Dumbledore, and he thought about waiting out of sight and having the boy walk the rest of the way.

Harry looked up at him and blocked the sun with his hand. "Can you tell Charlie I'm sorry? I think I made him mad."

Sirius frowned and stared at Harry's forehead again. "Are you sure you don't wear glasses?"

"What are glasses?"

Sirius did not answer; he could no longer look at him. A large clock in the middle of the square revealed it was 9:03. Instead of having Harry walk by himself, Sirius decided he should go with him, at least a little further. He had the Polyjuice Potion, after all. This resolve lasted until he saw Remus Lupin standing next to the Headmaster. Sirius stopped walking, and the boy stopped too.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked. Sirius shook his head.

"I think... you'll need to walk the rest of the way on your own. Just go to those two men, the ones by the empty table." 9:07.

Harry looked at him oddly, but obeyed. They were only some twenty meters away, but neither man had spotted them and Sirius did not dare go any closer. Instead, he stood partially concealed next to a tree and took out his flask of Polyjuice Potion, aware that its effects were close to wearing off.

Harry reached them. 9:10.

Nothing could have prepared Sirius for what happened next. What had at first seemed to be a trick of the light as Harry walked away became a startling revelation. The platinum blonde hair began changing colour, until it was completely black. Dumbledore and Remus both looked on in amazement. Dumbledore motioned to Remus, who closed in on them and shielded them from view. When he stepped back, Dumbledore had slipped his wand back into his robes.

Remus knelt on the concrete and touched Harry's forehead, and then snatched his hand away quickly, almost as if burnt. Sirius could not think. What was Remus doing? Sirius had never seen Dumbledore so... shocked. The old man asked Harry something, and the boy turned around, looking for Sirius.

And then Sirius saw.

No.

No. It could not be.

Harry turned around, grabbed Dumbledore's hand and led him toward Sirius. As they got closer Sirius recognized the bright green eyes, the black hair. Everything.

Sirius backed away. He had been so stupid. How could he not have seen? If he had thought Dumbledore and Remus had looked surprised before, that was nothing compared to the expression on their faces now. It seemed to mutate into anger rather quickly, and Sirius was not prepared for what happened next.

Remus swung before Sirius could react, and without warning he was on the floor. Then Remus calmly took out his wand and pointed it at Sirius' heart.

"You're going back to Azkaban, Sirius Black."


	10. An Abundance of Revelations

Harry stood there, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. He ran to Sirius and unceremoniously plopped himself down on Sirius's stomach.

"Don't hit Charlie!"

Lupin frowned, but aimed his wand away from Harry nonetheless. "Harry, get away from him. He's dangerous."

"No!"

"Harry, he killed your parents." Lupin hissed. Dumbledore gave him a look, but he ignored it.

"No he didn't, that was Matt!" Harry answered stubbornly.

Unwilling to argue, Lupin tried to pick Harry up, but the boy struggled and grabbed a hold of Sirius's legs and refused to let go.

"Harry?" Dumbledore called softly. The struggle stopped instantly. Muggles were looking at them, and a few had gotten up to see what was going on. "Harry, you will have to come with us." He ordered gently.

"But he hit Charlie!" Harry protested. He was very much aware that the old man was the one he was supposed to go see, the one who would help him. Looking at Dumbledore apologetically, he got a better hold on Sirius and shook his head.

The barely conscious Sirius put a hand on Harry's back.

"Stupefy!" Lupin called out angrily. The muggles began to scream.

Harry shook Sirius's limp form and looked up at Lupin with fear and distrust. Recognizing defeat, he walked to Dumbledore and stood there, looking up at the old man like a child about to be scolded.

"The Aurors should arrive shortly, Remus. I am going to take Harry to the Minister, can I count on you to make the necessary memory modifications?"

Lupin nodded

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Harry watched his feet swing; the chair was too tall.

_Swing, swing, swing._

"I can't believe it! Amazing!" the man who had been introduced as Minister Fudge was saying for the eleventh time. "Impossible!"

He circled Harry's chair a few times, rubbed his chin, shook his head, and muttered, "Simply amazing!" a few more times before sitting down. "I don't believe it!" he finally muttered.

Harry watched his feet swing and wondered where Charlie was. He was probably mad because the man had hit him. And it had probably been his own fault, because Charlie would not have been there if he, Harry, had not run from Matt. And more importantly, if he had not shown them where he was standing.

The old man finally broke the silence that had been making Harry so uncomfortable. "I think Harry needs to rest before we interview him. He has been through enough, I think, and I must speak to you privately."

The other man nodded. "Harry, would you like to rest?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sleepy."

"Really, boy, I think it's-"

"I'm not sleepy." Harry repeated, effectively interrupting the man. He was not sure he liked him much. The old man took Fudge to the other side of the office and whispered something.

"… Defended Black…"

"Charlie? What is the meaning of it? Why not tell him…"

"… Keep your voice down, please, Cornelius."

"Yes, sorry… brainwashing… You-Know-Who… back… Azkaban!"

_Swing, swing, swing._

They were talking about him, but he was not sure why. He had not done anything, had he? Harry looked at them carefully. The old man seemed to have said something the other man did not like, because his face started becoming a blotchy sort of red.

"We will question him _now_!"

Fudge broke away from the old man and sat down at his desk, Harry sitting in front of him.

"Do you know who you are?" he asked Harry.

Harry almost laughed. Of course he knew who he was, he was not stupid. Instead of pointing it out, however, he nodded.

"Okay, tell me your name."

"My name is Harry."

"Cornelius, I insist-"

"I'm sorry, Dumbledore, but this needs to be taken care of. We'll find out the whole story and then make arrangements for him to go back to his family."

The old man was prevented from answering as Harry jumped from his chair. "I get to see my parents?"

Fudge looked rather awkwardly at Dumbledore. "Well, you might want to explain the situation to him, Dumbledore. I'll go get the Aurors so they can come listen to this."

Fudge quickly left the room, and Harry was trying to think of a way to get the old man out of the room too. The old man had other ideas, however. He conjured up a chair out of thin air and sat down by Harry, moving the boy's chair so it would face his own. Then, with strength that no man as old as the one standing in front of Harry could have, he lifted Harry back onto his chair.

"This is a very complicated thing to explain, Harry, but I'll do my best. Do you know what you are?"

Harry looked at him for a second, confused. He was lots of things, how was he supposed to know if they were both talking about the same thing?

"Ah, let me explain, Harry. You, my boy, are a wizard. Did you know this?"

"What's a wizard?"

"A wizard… well, for now you will have to be satisfied with knowing that you have special abilities that may help you in times of trouble."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Like Charlie? He made motorcycles fly and he said when I'm older I'll be able to do it too. He let me borrow his stick- I mean, wand. But I set the toaster on fire."

The old man smiled at that explanation, but then his face was grave. "How long have you been living with Charlie?"

Harry shrugged. "I only stayed with him since I ran away the day before yesterday. He told me he was going to take me to someone who could help me find my parents, since I didn't have Matt anymore.

"I see. Who is Matt?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, almost defeated. "Matt's my godfather."

The old man's eyes widened very slightly. "Explain to me, Harry, everything that has happened. Don't leave anything out."

"Since when?"

"Everything you remember."

"All I remember is Matt. I grew up with Matt. He's my godfather, and he's been taking care of me since my parents died in a car accident."

The expression on the old man's face was unfathomable. "So how did you get to Charlie? Why did you not have Matt anymore? What did you run away from?"

Harry's feet stopped swinging. "Well, there was a man that came to our house. I didn't get a good look at him, but he yelled at Matt. I don't think Matt liked it, because he got his wand and pointed it at the man. But I don't know why. There was some green light and the man fainted. Matt said he was sick, and he called someone to come get him and take him to the hospital."

The old man nodded, but asked no questions, so Harry continued. "Then we moved, and another man came. This one was in Matt's room, and he was sick too, I think. He was on the floor, and I guess he was trying to scream because he didn't feel well. I thought Matt was trying to help him with his wand. I knew he was there, and Matt left the next day, so I went to take him some food.

"The man asked me to untie him, and I did, but I got in trouble with Matt. He kicked the man and did other things to him, and I just got scared and ran when he pointed the wand at me." Harry lowered his eyes, "I guess I was stupid. It doesn't seem like a good reason to run away now."

"On the contrary, Harry! Your instincts told you that it was not safe, and you did what we all do when we feel threatened. Our instincts are often right, and you did well by getting out of there. But how does Charlie fit into all this?"

"Well," continued Harry, "I went outside and ran to the park and I found Charlie there. He stopped Matt, because he was chasing me, you see. So I told him what happened and he walked over to Matt and saw something on Matt's hand- or arm, maybe- and then took me to his house. He said he was going to help me. I was supposed to meet you this morning."

"Did Charlie tell you why?"

Harry tried to piece everything together as he went. "He said you might be able to find my parents. The man who came to our house told me Matt killed my parents, but maybe I forgot to tell him that because he wanted us to try anyway." He paused for a second and then looked up almost hopefully. "So do you…? Know my parents?"

The old man nodded, and he looked very sad. "I knew your parents, Harry. But both of them have… passed away."

"You mean they died?"

The old man nodded. "I'm afraid so."

Harry lowered his eyes. "Oh. I thought so. But Charlie said maybe you'd get me new parents. Though it's okay if you don't, Charlie said he'll let me stay with him if you can't find anyone. And I don't think he'll be too mad at me that he would take it back."

Dumbledore looked at Harry curiously. "Why? Was Charlie often mad at you? Did he yell at you, like he thought things were your fault?"

"No! Charlie's not like that. He told me if I had no one else to go to, he would let me stay with him. And Charlie wouldn't lie."

"Well, no need to worry, Harry. You will not be going back to Charlie's."

Harry frowned. Why would he be worried? "It wasn't bad. We had hotcakes for breakfast."

The old man smiled slightly. "Nonetheless, I'm going to take you to your aunt."

A smile almost crept onto Harry's face. "Oh, I have one of those?"

"Er… yes."

"Robbie's aunt was really nice. She brought us food and spent all her time talking to Robbie's mom about Robbie's dad. Is mine nice?"

The old man looked a little funny, and he did not answer the question. Instead, he looked through his dress-like clothes and took out a small candy. "Lemon drop?"

Harry took it and put it in his pocket to save it for later. "Thank you. Did Charlie already go home, or can I still go say goodbye?"

"Charlie… went home. He had to go, otherwise I am certain he would have come to say goodbye to you."

"I think he would come have if your friend hadn't hit him."

"It's very complicated, Harry. I'll explain it to you someday."

"He told me," Harry said, "that I shouldn't tell you I had stayed with him because you didn't like him."

Dumbledore smiled pleasantly but did not respond. Instead, he said, "Tell me, Harry, what colour are your eyes?"

"Green," Harry answered automatically. "Err… wait, they're blue now. My hair used to be black, too. But it's yellow now."

"Really?"

Harry nodded, nervous that the old man might think he was lying.

"When did they change?"

"Before we moved to our new house. Matt said I was getting sicker and they would go back to their normal colour when I got better, if I took my medicines."

"You mean to say you are sick?"

Harry nodded. "Only a little, and if I forget to take my medicines one day then I can't see right. And if I stop taking it for a long time then warts will come out."

The old man frowned. He took out his wand and whispered something, conjuring up something metal from thin air. He put it on Harry's face and Harry's vision cleared up immediately. "Those are glasses," he said, "And you will be happy to know that you will not have to bother with any more medicines from now on."

Harry took the glasses off his face and put them back on, marvelling at the difference. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Harry. And I daresay you might be pleasantly surprised later, if you look at a mirror."

Harry shrugged.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Sirius woke up somewhere, but he was not sure where. It was dark and damp.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

And reality came crashing down on him. Where else would he be? He had been caught again. He had stupidly delivered to Dumbledore the one person he had been most anxious to find.

But he had checked, had he not? There had been no scar, and Sirius knew about the scar. He had seen the deep gash when he had asked Hagrid to let him take Harry; Sirius had known that it would always be there, as a reminder of what had happened that night.

There had been no scar. No scar.

They had changed his hair, his eyes. Those impossibly green eyes that had stared up at him during so many games of peek-a-boo… how could he have known? The black hair that he had inherited from his father?

All different.

But he should have known. _Nothing_ should have stopped him from knowing it was Harry. He had failed them again. He had failed Lily and James once more.

They had changed his eyes. They had changed his hair. They had taken his scar.

They had taken his godson.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

He was done.

Had he not done what he had set out to do? It had not come out exactly the way he had wanted it to, but he had done it, had he not? Harry was safe.

He had hoped… No, he could not think about it now.

No happy thoughts in Azkaban.

No happy thoughts at all.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

"Mum! Daisy's not sharing!"

Petunia Dursley threw up her hands. "For the last time, Dudley, you have your own!"

"But I want hers!"

Taking a deep breath, Petunia poured out another cup of juice.

"Here you go, Dudders." She handed the fat little boy a new cup, and he took it, discarded his previous one, and stuck his tongue out at his sister. She picked up his discarded cup and finished the juice in it, then went back to her own. He shrugged, and tried to down his own cup.

"This not apple juice!" Dudley screamed.

"I'm sorry, but mommy hasn't had time to buy any more apple juice. Prune juice is all we have, but I'll go get you some more later, and we'll get you some orange juice too, okay?"

"I don't want prune!" little Dudley screamed again.

"That's all we have!" Petunia snapped.

Dudley snatched his sister's cup and tried to drink it, but it was empty. He threw the cups across the room and nearly hit the Television. Too tired to put up with him, she went back to the kitchen. It was wrong of her to take out her emotions on her children, if the neighbours knew…! She would be labelled a bad mother, and she certainly did not want that. But she had been so tense lately, since her husband was so close to losing his job. And then there had been that nasty business about the funeral for her nephew. It was ridiculous, to have had such a large ceremony for a boy! She did not know why she had gone, really, he had all those other people to mourn him, and she had no time for that nonsense.

Petunia felt slightly dizzy for a second, and she held on to the kitchen top for balance. The doorbell rang, and she ran to get it. The two kids were crowded around it, both battling to open it.

"Go play, you two," Petunia shooed them away and opened the door and froze at the sight that met her eyes.

As if it was not enough that an old man, one that Petunia knew to be one of them, was standing on her doorstep, next to him was a small boy that could have been a miniature replica of the Potter boy. The same one her sister had married. Her eyes widened, and she looked at the old man, the young boy, and then at the old man again.

"…Is he…?" Petunia whimpered. The old man, Dumbledore, looked like he was going to smile. He took her arm and, Petunia being too weak to protest, led her to the sofa. Dumbledore closed the door and motioned for the boy to sit down. The boy sat down on the sofa opposite of Petunia.

"Mrs. Dursley…"

Petunia nodded, unable to stop staring at the child, who was looking at her with visible curiosity.

"I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts-"

"Yes, I know, I remember." Petunia interrupted. "What is the meaning of this? The reason for your visit?"

"Why, I was sure you knew why I am here."

"He's… I mean-" Petunia stuttered as the boy turned to look at her own children with something like excitement in his eyes.

"Yes, he is." Dumbledore replied.

"Where… I mean…. Harry-?" Petunia looked away, unable to make eye contact with the boy.

"He was found earlier today by a lucky coincidence. I received a letter by someone claiming they had a boy who had been kidnapped in their custody. I went to meet the person, and found Harry," he motioned to the boy, "disguised by a few spells and potions."

"Well… who? Were they rewarded? I mean, not that I think that they should- Well, I suppose it's a good thing you found him." Petunia finished weakly.

"The person who wrote the letter was Sirius Black."

"Oh!"

"He has been caught and sent to Azkaban, so you and your family need not worry. We thought he might come to you, but he has been caught before any damage could be done, except for the attack yesterday, but we are not yet sure he had anything to do with that. It is all being looked into."

Petunia nodded. "But what does this have to do with me?"

"Everything," the old man hesitated slightly, "I came to leave Harry in your care."

The boy snapped back to attention, looking at Petunia and Dumbledore in turns.

Petunia's eyes widened. "My…" she shook her head quickly. The old man turned to the boy.

"Harry, do you think that perhaps you should go to the bathroom?"

"I don't have to go," The boy replied quickly.

"We have a long trip ahead of us," Dumbledore insisted, "I would prefer you went now. It is upstairs and to the right, is it not?" He turned to Petunia who nodded dumbly.

The boy looked… was it disappointed? He did not, however, say another word and instead wandered away toward the stairs. Her own children stood aside as the boy passed, and then crowded at the bottom of the stairs, watching him climb and disappear out of sight.

Dumbledore turned back to Petunia. "Please, continue."

"I have no room, and I have two children of my own to care for. I can't do it." She sprung to her feet and walked to the door to show him out. "I don't mean to be rude, but you might want to think of finding someone else. Even if that lunatic is back in that… that place, I can't take him. _She_ got herself killed because of him, and I can't endanger my family."

"None of you would be in danger, Petunia. His stay with you may not be very long at all, but we need to have him somewhere safe while everything returns to normal."

"I am _Mrs. Dursley_, sir."

"Forgive me." Dumbledore replied, though he did not look the least bit sorry that he had used her given name.

"So you admit that there is danger?"

"Not to you or your family, but we fear Voldemort," Petunia swallowed, "may be close rising again, in which case, we will all be in danger."

"You cannot expect me to do this! My husband-"

"Can be persuaded."

"He is very close to losing his job, what if something should happen?"

"If you accept your responsibility as his only living relative to take care of him, I can assure you that nothing unfortunate will happen to you. You have my word that I will care for you and your family, and should you and your husband ever have financial problems, I shall help you in whatever way I can, whether it requires finding a way for your husband to keep his job, or providing him with a job myself. I can guarantee you that your family shall not see hardship as long as you perform your duties."

Petunia stared in the direction of the stairs, expecting him to come back down any moment.

"I'll have to think about it." She answered, letting herself drop on to the couch.

Dumbledore nodded. "I will return tomorrow afternoon to place Harry permanently and officially in your care. Will that be enough time for you to talk it over with your husband?"

"Permanently?"

"We shall assume so, to be on the safe side. There may be other arrangements that can be made, but for the time being, this is the safest place for him. I will be honest with you and tell you there is a possibility he may have to stay in your care until he is of age."

"My husband will not like the idea. And if the boy causes too much trouble, he will have to go."

"I have every reason to believe Harry is an intelligent child with a wonderful disposition who will not trouble you at all." Dumbledore smiled as the boy came down the stairs.

"Perhaps I should introduce you, then. Harry, this is your Aunt Petunia, sister of your mother, Lily." Harry nodded and Dumbledore continued, "You will be staying with her."

The boy smiled and his sickeningly green eyes shone as he waved. He then turned to Dumbledore and said, "Am I staying here now?"

"Oh, I think not quite yet. I know you must be excited about meeting your new family, but there are still things for us to do." Dumbledore let himself be led to the front door by Petunia.

"Where are we going?" the boy asked, following the old man but glancing at Dudley and Daisy as he neared the door.

"We are going to visit Remus Lupin, a friend of mine."

The two walked outside, and Petunia shut the door as soon as they cleared the frame, hoping they would leave soon. It would not do for them to be seen by her neighbours. She opened the door after a minute to make sure they were gone. The street was empty, and the only sign of life was old Ms. Figg looking out of her window.

Petunia only hoped the old bat had not seen anything.


	11. A Chocolatey Bribe and A New Threat

Harry experienced the most curious sensation as he and the old man left his aunt's house. It had been unpleasant, as if he was trying to fit his body into a very small space and there was not enough room to breathe. He felt the old man's hand tighten around his own for a second before they reappeared in what looked to be the edge of a forest.

"Come along now, Harry," said the old man as he led him to a pleasant looking cottage a small distance away. Before they had even reached the door it swung open and the occupant walked out to meet them.

As soon as Harry laid eyes on the man that came out, Harry recognized him. He crossed his arms and bit his lip nervously. The man had changed into a dark robe like the one Charlie had worn at the house, but Harry was still sure he was the man that had hit Charlie.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon, Please come in. Did everything go well?"

The old man nudged Harry toward the couch, and Harry obliged and sat down.

"Oh, certainly," the old man said, "I spoke to Harry's aunt and there should be no problem there. I will take Harry to her tomorrow and we will leave him in her care."

The other man nodded and walked to Harry, holding out his hand. "Hi. I'm Remus Lupin. Nice to see you again, Harry."

Harry shook his hand, and nodded, but said nothing.

Remus Lupin tried again, "Are you feeling well, Harry?"

Harry simply nodded. He did not understand why the stranger was being so friendly all of a sudden.

Lupin sighed and turned to the old man, "May I speak to you alone, sir?"

"Of course, Remus. Please wait here, Harry, and I will come right back."

Harry obeyed and watched the old man and Lupin move to the dining room. He could not hear what they were saying, so he busied himself with looking around. The place was small, even smaller than the last house he and Matt had lived in. It was definitely much smaller than Charlie's, so much so that Charlie's was huge in comparison. But Charlie's house had also been much bigger than his aunt's house, and it had a huge bed and decorations like pictures that moved.

Harry caught his train of thought and giggled slightly. The old man and Lupin had been speaking in low voices in the kitchen, but both stopped suddenly almost as if surprised by it, and Harry resolved not to make any more noise.

Harry had an aunt. She did not look like Robbie's aunt, or act like her at all. Robbie's aunt had brought them snacks and been very nice, but Harry did not mind that his own aunt did not seem to be like that. He had one, at the very least.

Harry had also seen two others kids in the house, though neither of them had spoken to him. He wondered if he was still forbidden to talk to other people. If it was still so, then he had definitely broken the rules. He had talked to Charlie, the old man, and a few other people who had looked at him like the weird Fudge fellow and mumbled, "Impossible!"

Both Charlie and the old man had said that he would not be going back to Matt's house, so it was not like Matt could punish him anymore. Maybe he would be allowed to visit. In fact, Robbie had not had an uncle, only an aunt that lived with him and his parents. But maybe Harry had an uncle as well as an aunt, and if he did not, he could ask Charlie if he would be his uncle.

Harry had not completely forgotten the letters Charlie had tried to teach him, and he suspected that when he started school his teacher would be proud that he had already learned something on his own. The other boy at his aunt's house looked much bigger than him, but maybe the girl would still go to the same school as him, and they could play together during the breaks…

"When will I go to school?" Harry turned around and asked the old man. It was not until he had already spoken that he realized he had interrupted their conversation. He cringed slightly, expecting to be reprimanded, but the old man only looked at him questioningly.

"Excuse me?"

"It's just that Robbie said boys are supposed go to school, and I want to go too. And the boy with my aunt was wearing those matching clothes, like the ones I saw other kids wearing when they walked home from the schools, and it reminded me that maybe I'm old enough to go already."

"I suppose you are old enough, yes," admitted the old man. "Your aunt has children of her own. I believe your cousin Dudley is about your age, and the other little girl is only slightly younger. You will likely start school with them shortly."

Harry nodded and went back to be being quiet.

"Well, Remus, I must return to the Ministry to get the rest of this sorted out. Black is back in Azkaban but I believe we still have a chance at extracting information from him, perhaps sort out some of the troubling events that have unfolded in the past weeks."

"Of course," replied Lupin.

"Excellent. Harry, Remus was a friend of your father and your mother. If you do not object, you will be spending the night here and I will come back tomorrow afternoon to take you to your aunt's house."

"Er," replied Harry, but the old man went on.

"Perfect, it is settled, then. Remus, thank you again for everything. And Harry," the old man bent down to look at him. "I want you to remember that we may not always understand the things around us and you should always reserve judgment until you know all the facts."

Harry looked back at him, puzzled. "Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Is Charlie really okay? Will I see him again?"

"You would do best to forget about Charlie, Harry. Remus did not hurt him as you think, but you will not be seeing him again nonetheless," The old man replied gently.

Sensing it would be unwise to argue, Harry nodded and turned away, avoiding the steady gaze of both men.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Albania.

The word was permanently etched in the mind of Lucius Malfoy. There was a chance, albeit a small one, that this was the sign he had been waiting for, so to speak. He had heard whispers before, but always speculative and never concrete. But such a strange occurrence could hardly be a coincidence.

What could it possibly mean? Was his master truly alive? Lucius was faced with a dilemma. He could hardly run off to Albania without raising suspicion, much less on such a feeble lead. But if he failed to respond to the Dark Lord's call…

Lucius would have to come up with a plan. He would need to send somebody to Albania to search for the Dark Lord, someone that could not be linked to him, should it be a trap. As much as he hated to admit it, Lucius Malfoy was worried. Sirius Black had broken out of Azkaban, and Lucius was absolutely certain the man had never been among the Dark Lord's followers. They had used Black's escape to their advantage, pretending it was he who was behind the muggle attack they had planned.

But surely it was no coincidence that Black had broken out only days after the search for the Potter brat had been called off. Perhaps it would be best if Reid and the boy left the country. It had been terribly idiotic for Adam to think that raising the boy in England was safe, even if he had hidden him among muggles. If only Lucius had known from the beginning… but it did not matter; he was determined to get things under his control once and for all. Reid and the boy must leave the country, and Lucius would send someone to Albania to search for a clue to his Master's whereabouts.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Remus watched as Harry chased his food around his plate with his fork. He must not have been hungry after all of the candy Remus had allowed him to eat earlier. He knew he should not have let Harry have so much, but Remus could hardly help himself. It seemed the only way Harry responded to him at all was if Remus held out a box of candies to him. Remus could not blame Harry; he knew that the boy did not trust him. And it was all because of Sirius Black.

After so many years...

Remus was still in shock. Harry had been found so suddenly. Nothing made sense; the disguise, the boy's account of everything that had happened, and, most importantly, that Sirius had returned the child to them. Sirius could not have known Harry's true identity. That was the only explanation.

But Remus knew that Death Eaters did not do good deeds like returning lost children without an ulterior motive. It did not seem to be at all in character for Sirius Black, one of the most feared wizards of all time, to do such a thing. Anyone would have expected Black to kill Harry, or any other child, rather than waste time trying to help him.

Remus did not know what to think. Had Sirius had a good reason for what he had done with Harry? Or maybe, just maybe, did Sirius still have enough decency so as to not hurt a child? Not only that, Sirius had gone out of his way to help someone he thought was a mere stranger, an act that had ultimately brought about his recapture.

No, his actions definitely did not fit Sirius, the cold hearted murderer. But they fit quite well with the Sirius he had known so long ago. The Sirius that Remus had trusted; the same Sirius that Lily and James had trusted.

Remus dropped his head into his hands and wondered why Dumbledore had left Harry with him. Remus liked the idea of spending time with Harry, of course, but it was hard to think with him around. The headmaster had said that it was necessary, and that Remus was the closest thing Harry had to a friend at the moment. But Remus knew it was not true. Whatever sick intentions Black may have had, Harry looked up to him more than anyone was willing to admit.

To Remus, Harry was withdrawn and almost unapproachable.

Remus shook his head subconsciously and picked up his plate. "Why don't we eat in the living room, Harry? We can watch the television."

Harry seemed pleased with the idea, picking up his plate and following. Normally Remus would not have allowed it, but he was willing make the sacrifice. Perhaps he could talk to Harry and earn his trust so the boy would, for once, trust someone who would not kill him in a second for a pat on the back from Voldemort.

Harry finished his meal in silence, only looking at Remus when he got up to clear their dishes. Once the program had ended, Remus turned off the television and sat on the recliner, almost across from Harry on the couch.

It was time to tell the boy the truth

Harry looked up at Lupin questioningly. Remus took a deep breath and reached into his robes for the pocket watch James had given him for his seventeenth birthday. It gave Remus courage in situations like this.

Harry, however, misinterpreted the gesture and cringed slightly, and Remus remembered the reason Harry had disliked him in the first place.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Harry. I only hit Si-…Charlie, because he deserved it."

Harry blushed slightly. "Oh," was all he said as he turned himself completely around to face Remus.

Remus was about to continue, when he was struck by a thought. "Harry, you thought I was going to hit you?"

Harry's mouth opened, but he closed it again. He shook his head, but Remus knew it has crossed his mind. Was there a reason for it? He felt his blood boil as it occurred to him that Sirius might have done something to the boy. Harry seemed to be protective of him, but it could be a psychological thing. Who knew what Sirius had told poor Harry?

Of course, it was just as likely that Harry's previous 'guardian' had hit him on occasion. Remus would have to ask; though he was not sure he wanted to know. It was incredibly out of character for him, but he could not help thinking that none of that would have happened to Harry if he had only... What could he have done? Stopped James and Lily from making Sirius Secret Keeper? Not likely.

Gone after Sirius himself? He would have, but he had not known. He had not found out about the tragedy until several hours after it had happened.

Harry was looking at him questioningly, so Remus gave him a reassuring smile. He was not sure what to tell the boy. He could not tell Harry the whole truth, and Dumbledore had given no indication of how much he should be told. But Remus had to give Harry a general idea of the situation.

"How about we start this a little differently? What do you know about your parents?"

Harry shrugged, but Remus noticed that he wrapped his arms discreetly around himself. "They're dead. At least that's what Matt and the old man said. And then the other man said Matt killed them."

"What other man?"

"The one that Matt was hurting," Harry answered simply.

Choosing to set the problem of the mystery man Matt had hurt aside for the moment, Remus asked, "Did Charlie ever talk about your parents?"

Harry shook his head. "Charlie didn't know who they were either. But he did tell me that they would want me, once they found me. But then I told him about them being dead, and I guess he thought Matt did it too."

Remus, nodded taking it all in. "Well, Harry, I'm not saying Matt is completely innocent, but he did not kill your parents. He just worked for the man who killed them."

"Worked?"

"Er... they knew each other. Like friends. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, for lack of anything else to do it seemed, because he still looked slightly confused.

"Well, it means Matt did not kill them himself, but that he was on the same side as the man who killed them."

"Oh. How did they die?"

Remus swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He had not planned on this. "Well, they just... died. Voldemort pointed a wand at them, said a spell, and they died." At the boy's still bewildered expression, Remus took out his wand.

Comprehension dawned on Harry's face. "Matt pointed his wand at people too."

Remus nodded. "How many times did you see him do it?"

Harry seemed to think about it for a moment. "I can't count that high."

"Did he ever point it at you?"

"That's why I ran and met Charlie. Charlie pointed his wand, too."

A feeling of dread came over Remus. Sirius had had a wand. It had not been found on him, but Harry had seen it. There was no way Sirius could have hidden it on himself, but it would have been illogical for him to leave his hiding place without it. As he was chasing that train of thought, something else occurred to him. "Harry, he didn't point it at you, did he?"

Harry shook his head. "He only pointed it at Matt." He smiled and looked up at Remus almost defiantly. "Charlie would never hurt me, he only used his wand to show me how to play with things."

Remus frowned at the thought of the unlikely pair engrossed in a game of Exploding Snap while the combined forces of Dumbledore and the Ministry looked under every rock for a hint of them. Remus offered the box of chocolates to Harry again. Nothing made sense. Had Sirius' plan gone wrong? Why had Sirius not known it was Harry? Had Harry run from one Death Eater, only to encounter Sirius and be taken in without any questions asked? Remus had been over it a million times in his mind, and it did not make any sense. The more he thought about it, the more confusing everything became.

"So," Harry began, thoroughly enjoying the chocolate, "why did they die?"

Remus thought about it for a second, trying to think of a way to word everything so Harry would understand. "Well, they were important people who fought against Voldemort, an evil wizard. And he killed them. But they were very brave people." He was determined to leave out the part about Lily's sacrifice. Harry was much too young.

"Did they hurt?" Harry asked. It was spoken so quietly that Remus had to ask Harry to repeat the question.

Remus tried to come up with an adequate answer and finally, at Harry's expectant gaze, he shook his head. "I don't really know. When people die this way-"

"How many ways can people die?"

"Well, there are lots."

"Oh," Harry answered, "I always thought everyone died the same way."

"The only people who know how it feels to die that way are... dead, so we can't ask them." At Harry's expressions, Remus quickly added, "But I don't think it hurt."

Harry nodded and took another chocolate from the box on Remus' outstretched hand.

"There's one more thing, Harry. After your parents died, Dumbledore-"

"The old man?" it was more of a statement than a question, but Remus nodded.

"Yes, Dumbledore took you to your aunt. But then someone else took you. We all looked for you, but no one could find you."

"But I was with Matt. Matt's my godfather."

"Do you know what a godfather is?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but Matt said he was like a replacement dad."

Remus' blood nearly boiled at that. No one would have been able to replace James, not even Sirius, if he had stayed on their side. "A godfather, Harry, is usually a close friend of the parents of a child. If anything happens to the parents, the godfather is then responsible for the child. That means that after your parents died, you should have gone to your godfather-"

"But that makes sense, then! Matt's my godfather, and I was with him! You should have looked for me there." Harry answered sagely.

"Well, no, Harry, because Matt isn't your godfather."

Remus expected Harry to shake his head and put him in his place about who his godfather really was, but Harry did no such thing.

He blinked. Just blinked.

"But Matt said-"

"Matt lied." Remus answered simply. "I was there when your parents chose your godfather."

"Well," Harry reasoned, "maybe they switched without telling you."

Remus laughed at the thought. James never would have chosen anyone other than Sirius as Harry's godfather, just like he would not have trusted anyone else as his Secret Keeper.

"Matt isn't your godfather."

"Well, then who is?" Harry demanded, as he ignored the box of chocolates Remus had pushed in his direction.

Remus cursed at his own foolishness. He should have expected that.

Dumbledore and Remus had not agreed on what Harry should be told, and what he should not find out until later. Much, much, later.

But Remus could not lie about something so important.

"Well, I don't really think you're old enough yet." Remus answered tentatively.

Harry looked at him, a slight frown painted on his face. Remus offered him another chocolate, but Harry ignored the box again. "What were my parents called?"

Being back on familiar territory made Remus feel better and he took a chocolate for himself while trying to think of the best way to answer the question.

"Well, your dad's name was James Potter, and your mother's name was Lily Potter. And you, of course, have their name, so you're-"

"Harry James Lily Porter?" Harry asked with grimace.

Remus laughed. "No, _Potter_, not Porter. And you only have your dad's name, not your mother's."

Harry seemed to think about it for a moment. "Harry-"

"... James Potter." Remus finished for him.

Harry nodded his satisfaction. "The old man, Dulb-," Harry began to stumble over the name, "Dub-Dumblor-"

"Dumbledore?"

"He said I'm going to go to my aunt's house."

Remus grimaced as they once more came to a delicate subject. Dumbledore insisted Harry should live there, but Remus knew what kind of a place it would be for Harry to grow up there. Petunia (Lily had called her Pet, though Remus could not see why Lily had insisted on using the endearment even after they stopped talking to each other) had two children; a boy that was possibly Harry's age, and a girl that was about a year younger. Both were spoiled and very used to getting their own way, though it did not seem like they got along very well. If luck was on their side, Harry would be able befriend one of them. If one of them naturally disliked Harry, the other sibling would likely try to befriend him just to spite the other.

Of course, they could just as easily join forces against him, but in that case he was hoping Petunia would not disregard their behavior.

Remus was displeased with the idea of Harry sharing a living space with them at all, but it seemed nothing could be done. Harry seemed to be a very sweet kid, despite everything that had happened. Hopefully he was old enough to realize his cousins' faults and would have enough common sense not to become like them. He entertained the idea of telling him to do the exact opposite of whatever they did, but quickly discarded it. They would have to trust Harry's judgment, though Remus swore that if he found Harry becoming anything like his cousins, he would demand that Dumbledore remove him from his aunt's custody.

Realizing it had been a few minutes since Harry had spoken, Remus forced himself to come up with an answer. "Your aunt Petunia isn't... she doesn't have a wand like mine, or Matt's. She doesn't like them very much."

"Neither do I." Harry answered with a shrug.

Remus smiled. "You will, eventually. Unless she asks you, don't talk about anything that happened with Matt and Charlie and the wands. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded and grabbed another chocolate.

Remus sighed and grabbed one for himself. "Harry, did Matt ever take you anywhere?"

Harry shook his head. "No, we always stayed home."

"But he didn't bring people to meet you? Did he make you talk to anyone?"

"No, Matt didn't want me to talk to anyone. If someone was there with him, he sent me to my room. And he always told me not to talk to people at the park."

"The park?" Remus' eyebrow shot up.

"Yes, the park. It's got trees and grass and-"

"No, wait, Harry, he let you go to the park?"

"Well, it was in front of our house."

"Was this when you had black hair or after it changed?"

"Well, before."

Remus let out something that sounded like a chuckle and leaned against the couch. Little Harry Potter, a mini replica of James Potter, had been walking around a park somewhere and no one had recognized him. People from the Ministry and even Dumbledore's own people had been moving heaven and earth to find him, and he'd been wandering around parks!

"You know, Harry, I think Dumbledore is going to have a lot of questions for you tomorrow."

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .


	12. A Useful Distraction

Peter Pettigrew felt his back make contact with the hard stone wall of Lucius Malfoy's dungeon. He lay crumpled on the floor, not bothering to move. Malfoy waited for a few minutes, watching him, watching for signs of weakness, perhaps. Minutes passed in silence that was only interrupted by Pettigrew's sudden gasps for breath.

"What made you come here?" Lucius Malfoy finally asked coldly.

"L-loyalty," Peter stuttered.

Malfoy laughed. "Loyalty? I find it very hard to believe that is the case. If you were loyal, you would not have pretended to be dead these last few years."

"I did that out of fear. Fear for Dumbledore and his people. But today I come out of loyalty," Peter insisted.

"No, you come out of fear. You're afraid of Sirius Black finding you. You're afraid of what we might do to you once the Dark Lord returns."

"O-outrageous. Now... if I was afraid of my own friends, why I would I come to you?"

"We are not your friends, Wormtail."

Peter managed to stand up and face Malfoy. "Well, we-we're on the same side."

Malfoy considered this for a moment. "Yes, it appears we are, though, I must admit, I had my doubts."

"He-who-must-not-be-named did not want anyone to know I was his... his s-spy."

"A precious few knew, but I... I only suspected." Malfoy answered bitterly. He shook it off and continued, "What intrigues me the most, however, is that you came to _me_."

Deciding that appealing to Malfoy's ego was his best course of action, Peter spoke, "Well, you were always one of the Dark Lord's best men, his most trusted. I knew that anyone who could be that valued by the Dark Lord was bound to be cunning, intelligent, patient, and fair enough to listen to what I had to say."

"You flatter me, but patience and fairness had little to do with it."

Peter bowed his head, sensing that the older man was still not done.

"What should stop me from killing you right now?"

Peter's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him.

"No need to speak. I was just making sure you realized how stupid coming here was. Quite fortunately for you, I have a use for you."

Pettigrew almost sighed with relief, but stopped himself, knowing that any sign of his real feelings might make Lucius change his mind.

"Sirius Black's escape has been troublesome to us. I suppose you are aware of everything that has happened in the last few years regarding Harry Potter's disappearance. You must know we have the boy. Any idiot could see that. Obviously, now that you've filled in the blanks for me, Mathew's insistence that he be better protected makes more sense now, no doubt the bastard knew about you and Black."

The bitterness was well concealed, but deep enough that Pettigrew still sensed it. He had no idea where Lucius' train of thought was leading him, but Pettigrew was already dreading whatever Malfoy had in store for him.

"If you are as loyal to our cause as you claim, then you will have no qualms completing the task I'm going to assign you." Malfoy's voice was silky, and Pettigrew knew he had no choice. He had already revealed himself and running was no longer an option. And neither was refusing. Better to do what Malfoy asked, and if things went well, his cooperation would earn him a place in the Dark Lord's good graces again.

"Black's escape, as you well know, may be an obstacle. Unfortunately, I had not counted on him disturbing my plans, but now I have reason to believe he may try to interfere. Dead men don't often come back to life, Pettigrew, but that is exactly what I'm going to ask of you."

Pettigrew gaped. "Y-you expect me to show myself?"

"Is there a problem?" Malfoy asked coldly.

"Surely I'd be more useful doing something else. I-surely my... abilities can be used to our advantage!"

"No... Now that everything has been revealed to me... everything is falling into place. Things are going to happen, Pettigrew. Big things. Why the Dark Lord may be walking among us again soon! But Dumbledore suspects us. You will allow yourself to be glimpsed and then you will run. Run far from us. After all, we don't want you leading anyone to us, do we?"

"B-but what will that accomplish?"

"A distraction. There is something I need to do, and have been looking for a way to move around unnoticed. I have received what I now realize is a sign. We need to have you in front of people who will recognize you; they will raise the alarm. Dumbledore will be informed, and everyone will be searching for you, completely unaware of what is happening elsewhere."

"But too many questions will be asked! They might suspect something!"

Malfoy seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding. "I need time to plan."

Pettigrew stared at him for a second, looking as nervous as ever. He needed to find a way out of it. Lucius Malfoy was crazy, he had to be. "It's been a... well, a long trip for me. I saw a discreet looking inn on my way here, and I am rather tired and hungry. Perhaps-"

"Oh, no," Malfoy answered, "there is no reason to put you in that sort of danger. You may... ah... _enjoy_ my hospitality until we come up with a plan."

Pettigrew's face fell. "R-really?"

Malfoy smiled. "Oh, yes. _Stupefy_!"

. ~ . ~ .

. ~. ~ .

The evening Harry spent at Mr. Lupin's house was quite uneventful, except for random visits from several people who seemed to be waiting for something outside. In the course of the evening, Harry had seen at least three different people come in to talk to Lupin and occasionally have a drink of water or use the toilet. All of them smiled at Harry pleasantly and none of them questioned him about Charlie or Matt, to his relief.

Mr. Lupin, Harry had learned, was actually a very nice man that just seemed to have a lot of anger towards Charlie. Although he did not want to answer all of Harry's questions like Charlie had, Harry liked him and felt it was easier to talk to him than it was to talk to the old man.

Nonetheless, Harry did not sleep well that night because he kept thinking about his aunt and the two children he had seen at her house. He imagined once he lived with them they might all be able to go to the park together and then his aunt would have a fresh batch of biscuits ready when they came home. So lost was he in this train of thought that he did not notice when he finally fell asleep.

Harry did not wake up until late the next morning, something he rarely did. He stayed in bed, unsure of whether Mr. Lupin would get mad at him for wandering around the house without permission. Soon enough the smell of breakfast reached him, and Harry decided to venture out, only to find Lupin wide awake and putting the finishing touches on what was probably breakfast.

"Harry," he said pleasantly, "I was about to come fetch you. Have a seat."

Harry obeyed and watched Lupin set three plates on the table.

Quite unaccustomed to being served, Harry sat awkwardly as Lupin set down a plate of eggs in front of him.

"Lester is going to join us for breakfast, though I daresay he'll be a little late. Lester is an Auror, and he is going to take you to your aunt's house after breakfast. I had expected Dumbledore would come himself, but he is still at the Ministry."

"Oh," was all Harry could think to reply.

"I don't think Lester will mind if we start without him. You must be hungry."

"Not really," Harry replied, thinking of the stomach-ache he had gotten the night before as a result of all the candy he had eaten.

The two sat in silence for several minutes before there was a knock on the door. Lupin went to open it, and Harry twisted around in his chair, trying to get a glimpse of the newcomer.

"Good Morning, Lupin. Something smells good," said a deep voice.

"Good morning, Les. I've set an extra place for you."

"Thank you, Remus. Is the boy around?"

Harry heard footsteps and Lupin's voice got closer. "Yes, he's already sitting. Please, through here."

"Remus, before we sit down. It's probably not a good idea to say this in front of Potter."

"Is something wrong?" Lupin's voice was so quiet Harry could barely hear him.

"Not necessarily. They found Grant."

"The missing Auror?"

"Yeah, he's at St. Mungo's. That's why Dumbledore didn't come, he's there now."

"Is Grant okay?

"Stable for now, will probably make a full recovery eventually. We don't have a lot of information yet. He's been unconscious since he was brought in over a day ago, looks like he was tortured too. It took a while for them to identify him without his wand and he did not have his Auror pin on him so the Healers did not think to notify the Ministry."

"At least we know he's okay. Dumbledore said he would talk to Harry before taking him to his aunt's house, but now I see why he told me it would have to wait."

"Dumbledore seems to think the man Grant was investigating was involved in Harry's disappearance, so hopefully this will shed some light on the subject. It could be that he wants to confirm the boy's story with Grant."

Harry, who had left his chair in order to better hear the two men, only had a second's notice to rush back to his seat and pretend to be enjoying his bacon.

"Harry, I want you to meet Lester. He's a Ministry Auror and he is going to be escorting you to your aunt's house later."

"Good morning, Mr. Lester," Harry replied, looking at a very big man who matched the deep voice Harry had heard.

"Good morning," Lester replied as he sat down to a plate of eggs and bacon.

Harry stayed quiet for the remainder of breakfast, listening to Lupin and Lester talk. Shortly after, both men got up and Harry felt obligated to finish his breakfast in two huge bites. Lester said something about getting the car and doing a last minute check, and Lupin took the opportunity to corner Harry alone.

"Harry, I want you to know that this is not the last time you will see me or Professor Dumbledore. If you need anything, and I mean anything, once you are at your aunt's house, let us know."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Lupin."

"Please, call me Remus."

"Okay, Mr. Lupin."

Lupin only smiled and accompanied Harry outside. Lester signalled to Harry, who climbed into the big black car parked on the dirt road leading to the cottage. Lester got in after Harry, and Harry heard him exchange pleasantries with Lupin before they took off.

The windows were so dark that Harry could not see anything of what was going on outside. He only felt the car moving, though he did not know how they had gotten out of the woods surrounding Lupin's house.

They drove for what seemed like a long time before Harry finally felt the car stop. He poked his out of the window and saw an ordinary looking house with a neatly trimmed garden and a little brick wall.

"Are we at my aunt's house yet?"

Lester smiled. "Yes, this is your aunt's house."

Harry looked at the house again, but with more interest. It looked... normal. It was bigger than his old house with Matt, and... Emptier. There were no toys scattered on the front porch like in the neighbouring houses where he used to live. There was no park nearby as far as he could see, and he did not see any kids playing outside, either. It was so...so...

"This place seems damn sterile," Lester muttered under his breath. Harry did not know what that meant, but it seemed to fit.

Lester grabbed Harry's hand and led him toward the door. He pushed a button, and Harry heard a buzzing noise coming from inside the house. He saw the mail flap being opened slightly, and a pair of bright blue eyes inside. The eyes stared at him curiously for a second before moving away. Then three small fingers found their way out the opening and, Harry thought, waved.

The fingers were withdrawn quickly, and seconds later, the door was opened by the intimidating figure of his aunt. She was looking at Lester expectantly, and he jerked his head to the side, motioning to Harry. She looked down in a jerky motion, and her eyes widened slightly. She looked at him fixedly; she did not seem happy, until she looked into his eyes.

She looked into his eyes for so long, that Harry was afraid to blink. Then, very suddenly, she looked away.

"I believe you've met Harry," Lester finally said.

The woman sniffed indignantly. "As if I had a choice!"

Before he knew it, he and Lester had been ushered in and Harry sat awkwardly on the couch as the large man spoke in hushed tones with his aunt and another large man with the colouring of a grape.

In what must have been an odd case of family resemblance, the little boy sitting in the couch opposite of Harry had taken a cherry-like colour after the tantrum he had thrown upon seeing Harry.

Harry's aunt turned to look at him, and he smiled at her endearingly, but she only turned around without acknowledging it and nodded to Lester.

Harry turned back to what he had been informed were his two cousins and felt a sinking feeling. They boy refused to look at him and would hold his breath whenever he felt Harry looked at him for too long.

His girl cousin on the other hand, was significantly younger and seemed to have a neck problem, because she just stared at him curiously with her neck tilted to the side and her nose scrunched up. Then again, it certainly did not help that they had been put under strict orders to sit quietly and not go near him.

Harry was broken out of this train of thought by Lester approaching him. "Harry," he said, "I'm going to leave you with your aunt and uncle now. If you have _any_ trouble at all, just tap on the kitchen window, okay?"

Harry looked at him oddly, but nodded. Lester straightened up. "Thank you, then, Mrs. Dursley. It'll be just as we settled it. We won't bother you at all, and should anything out of the ordinary happen, please let us know."

"And this will just be temporary, right?" the big man grumbled.

Harry's aunt put herself between the two men. "Don't worry, Vernon, we have a deal with the old man and he has to keep his end of the bargain or we give him the boy back."

Harry frowned. His aunt did not seem that happy, especially with him, but he could not think of any way he might have misbehaved. This was different from Matt's indifference. And since leaving Matt, everyone he had met had treated him with kindness.

So wrapped up was he in his thoughts that when Harry looked up, Lester was gone and his aunt and Vernon were standing side by side in front of the door, both looking at him. They seemed upset, and Harry was frankly at a loss. He wanted so much to make his aunt happy with him, like Robbie's aunt. He jumped off the couch before he could lose his nerve and hugged her legs tightly.

Vernon turned purple.

~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Lucius heard Pettigrew's groans as he began to wake up. The rat irritated him greatly, but his arrival had been a blessing in disguise, giving Lucius a brilliant idea to keep the Ministry from interfering with his plans to bring the Dark Lord back to England.

Lucius walked over to the bundle of rags on the floor and gave it a kick, and Pettigrew slowly sat up.

"I need you to be awake for this." Lucius snapped irritably.

Pettigrew sat up and was smart enough to not mention the earlier incident.

"There is a Quidditch game at Hogwarts this Saturday."

Pettigrew nodded.

"I have a distant nephew that plays on the House Team. Slytherin, of course. I don't normally attend these things, but I don't believe anyone would deem it strange that I should come to watch. Especially because I have already owled my cousin with the suggestion that she and her husband join me."

Pettigrew looked confused, so Lucius continued. "You were quite right in assuming that you may be useful to us. Dumbledore and some thousand other people will be there and we will need them to see you, but not catch you. No one must know that you are on our side, so you will pretend to be chased by a dozen of my men while you scream for help."

"But Dumbledore-"

Lucius raised his hand to quiet him. "Dumbledore will not be able to help. We will come out of the Forest, and you won't make it far enough for him to reach you, only far enough so that he will see you. And recognize you. It wouldn't hurt if you screamed out who you were. I will be there watching the game, so no one will suspect me. As soon as the old fool notices you, my men will catch up with you and Disapparate."

"How do you know I won't have reached the quidditch pitch before he notices me?"

Malfoy smiled, and it was by no means a warm smile. "I will arrange to have a few... ah... _spectators_ watching the forest for you. They will begin screaming and cause panic at the right moment. Dumbledore will _have_ to see. The old fool will think you have escaped Black and will alert the Ministry. You probably do not know this, but Black has been caught. There is a lot of secrecy shrouding his capture, but my source comes almost directly from Azkaban and assures me he is back in his cell."

"Black… has been caught?"

"Indeed he has. And that is what made me decide to reveal that you are alive. Dumbledore will rush to the Ministry and convince Fudge to focus all Ministry attention on finding you. They'll question Black, uselessly, and mount a full scale investigation that will keep them out of my hair. After the match, I'll join you and the rest at our designated meeting place."

"Where will we meet?"

"You can't expect me to tell you that, Pettigrew. After all, rats squeal, and if Dumbledore was able to save you, I would not put it past you to tell him."

"Now, Lucius, I would never-"

"The hell you wouldn't! You will be filled in with the specific instructions when the time comes. Are we clear?"

Pettigrew nodded numbly.

"Very well. I am warning you now. Do not try any of your tricks, Pettigrew. You do not know what I have been up to for the past few days."

Peter's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded again. "But what do you gain from this? Surely you're more likely to get caught if Dumbledore starts an investigation. He'll be looking-"

"Oh, he'll be looking, certainly. He'll just be looking in quite the wrong place."

~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

In contrast to the Minister of Magic, Albus Dumbledore found himself overly preoccupied by the events of the past week. He hoped he was merely being pessimistic, but there was a restlessness inside of him that refused to let him rejoice in the triumph Cornelius Fudge and the others were feeling.

After all, everything was falling neatly into place. Harry Potter had not only been found safe and sound, he was finally in the custody of his relatives where he should have been from the beginning. Sirius Black, one of the most feared dark wizards of their time had been captured after only weeks of his escape from the famed wizarding prison.

And even now, Dumbledore had just received the call that Colin Grant was finally awake, though still weak from his ordeal. But every single one of these discoveries had raised more questions in his mind that they had answered. Even as he turned the corner into the Auror's room at St. Mungo's, Dumbledore could not help but feel that whatever Grant had to say to him would only add to his burden.

"Mr. Grant, I am glad to hear that you are making a swifter recovery than anyone had expected."

The man on the bed slowly turned his head toward Dumbledore. "Headmaster. Reid has the boy. Harry Potter. I'm almost sure of it."

Dumbledore took a seat on the chair next to the bed. "Now, Mr. Grant, please do not strain yourself. Matthew Reid had Harry Potter, but that is no longer the case. You should be quite pleased, for we have recovered the boy and we have you to thank for it."

Grant took a deep breath and closed his eyes, obviously relieved.

"I tried to get him out of there. But how…?"

"Suffice it to say for now that you set in motion a chain of events that finally led to his discovery. But tell me, Colin, do you feel well enough to tell me what happened?"

Grant swallowed but nodded.

"After my last owl to you, I set out to find out more about Matthew Reid. I had no idea how to find him and I could not find anyone by that name in any registry. Sanders' wife knew nothing of his whereabouts and neither did Sanders, for that matter. But the old man was smarter than I gave him credit for. I found Reid's letters to Sanders, but Reid was refusing to budge about them meeting. I was going to owl you then, but I decided to wait until I had something more to report.

"I also found magical residue on an old map in Sander's desk which I was not sure was relevant to the case. I'm not sure how it happened. I'm not even sure how Sanders pulled it off. He somehow charmed the map and linked it either to his last letter to Reid or something else he instructed the owl to drop at the residence. I managed to reactivate it, but I wasn't sure how long the connection would last. I found the place and went with every intention of merely looking around and coming back, possibly with reinforcements."

"Were you ambushed?"

"No, not at all. I did not perceive any wards or anything indicating that there was a wizarding home nearby. I even thought I had hit a dead end or come upon a fake lead. But there must have been strong detection spells around the house because next thing I knew, I was being attacked. I almost can't believe I got taken down by one guy."

"But you were obviously at a disadvantage, and you survived."

"Honestly the rest is a blur. Reid tortured me, as you probably guessed. He wanted to know how I had found him and whether you had sent others. I don't know what Sanders told him, but it must have made him uneasy because he wouldn't kill me until I gave him a proper answer. I put together from his taunts and questions that he was hiding someone, but I had to bluff because I did not know who.

"I was unconscious a lot of the time. He kept me in the same room the whole time and put me in the closet whenever he wasn't trying to get an answer out of me. I don't even know how Potter found me. I was awake but Reid left me tied and hidden under an invisibility cloak. Somehow it made sense when I saw Potter. He was the right age, and it was only obvious that he would be under some kind of glamour charm.

"He freed me and I tried to bring him back with me, but he was obviously very confused about the danger he was in. The boy was obviously terrified but I had almost convinced him to come with me. Then Reid came back and found us. We fought and I got the upper hand at first, but I was weak and he bested me again. I don't know what happened after that. I was knocked out for a while. I woke up eventually and I crawled to the fireplace and tried to floo to the Ministry, to get reinforcements, but I'm told I never made it there. I woke up here."

Dumbledore nodded. "You have clearly been through a lot, Colin. Perhaps I should let you rest now."

Grant shook his head. "No. Please tell me what happened."

Dumbledore frowned and stood up. "I think the details are best left for another time, but I will tell you that Harry Potter is safe. After the encounter between you and Reid, Potter ran away and happened to run into… a different wizard, who turned him into our custody. Reid has not been found, but with the information you have given me, we will certainly have a place to start."

Grant gave a jerky nod and closed his eyes. "I promised Gary's wife that I would find him."

"I am certain that she will appreciate the closure you have brought her. And his body may still be discovered," Dumbledore replied. But there was a small part of him that knew they were no closer to any answers.


	13. A Dead Man Revives

Saturday morning, Harry sat quietly on the couch in the living room, listening to his aunt and uncle talking in the kitchen. They both sounded excited and Harry knew they were so pleased about something that had happened to his uncle at 'work'.

"I knew they would eventually realize what an asset I am to the company. I always said if I was running that company… but, I will be running it soon. Mark my words, Petunia, the first person to go will be Jenson!"

"I don't doubt it, Vernon! This is wonderful news. You'll be making enough to where we'll be able to keep the car!"

"Forget about that rundown thing, I'm going to demand that they give me a new company car, just like Jenson's. I deserve it, after all the work I've done for them! Took them long enough…"

Their voices got quieter all of a sudden, and Harry leaned forward, attempting to listen.

"Vernon," his aunt hesitated, "I know you deserve this, but isn't it… strange? That… _man_ said-"

"Codswallop, Petunia! All of it! Those people can't have any control over such a large company. He must have said all that so we would take the boy. No, _they_ had nothing to do with it. It was just time for Mr. Marston to get his head out of his arse and recognize real talent!"

"Of course, Dear. Where should we take the children to celebrate?"

"We can try that new place, the one by the megaplex."

"Oh, but Vernon, I overheard our neighbour talking to her sister about it on the phone…. It's supposed to be really expensive."

"Only the best for my family, Petunia! And you better get used to it. But what will we do with the boy?"

"There can't be any harm in leaving him here."

"I'll not have him wandering alone in my house, contaminating our home with his… abnormality. What about the neighbour, the one who came over and fed Marge's dog when we took her on that two day tour?"

"Mrs. Figg? I can ask her, I suppose."

His aunt's voice got louder as she walked toward the living room. Harry straightened up and shrunk into a corner of the couch, practicing his newfound ability of being invisible.

Harry was not yet very good, however, because his aunt saw him and scowled. "Why are you up already?"

This was, perhaps, the fifth thing his aunt had said to him in the course of two days. Mostly, she and her husband ignored him or talked about him as if he was a piece of dog excrement that the neighbour had failed to pick up from their yard.

His cousins were not much better. The older boy constantly chucked things at Harry and threw a tantrum every time Harry tried to talk to him. The girl just watched him endlessly and turned away whenever he tried to talk to her. He had noticed, however, that whenever Dudley threw his toys at Harry, Daisy would take advantage of Dudley's distraction to throw her toys at him.

But his relatives were not all bad. On Harry's first day, his aunt and uncle had argued about where to put him because his uncle did not want him to use the guest bedroom. His cousin Dudley had taken advantage of the fact that his parents were distracted to make it clear to Harry that he was in his territory. Being almost twice Harry's size, Dudley had picked him up neatly by his jumper and locked him in a cupboard under the stairs.

Harry had become scared and started yelling. Much to his relief, Daisy had heard him and gone to investigate. She had opened the door for him, which at least made Harry think she might like him a little even if her brother did not. Dudley had gotten so angry at his sister's interference that the ensuing fight between the two Dursley children had been so loud it had attracted his aunt's attention.

"You're brilliant, my boy!" Uncle Vernon had told Dudley, "We won't have to give up our spare bedroom. We have a perfectly good cot that will fit in that cupboard and the boy can stay there, Petunia."

"But where will we store our things, then? He won't fit, Vernon."

"Nonsense, the cupboard is big enough that he can fit in there with all our things just fine."

Harry merely smiled nervously at his aunt in response and walked back to his cupboard, hoping to diffuse the situation with his compliance.

It had been a long couple of days for Harry. He could only wonder what Charlie was doing, and if he was alone in that big house that Harry had begun to think of as home.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Lucius Malfoy had awaited Saturday so eagerly that finally being at Hogwarts, with his plans about to come to fruition, seemed surreal to him. His eyes never left the Slytherin Keeper, but he studied the crowd out of the corner of his eyes. It was almost time; Lucius was sure of it. The match had already dragged on for the better part of two hours, and there might not be much time left.

Lucius was seated closest to the right side of the Quidditch pitch, a seat he had chosen to better see the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He meant to be the first to see Pettigrew when he came running out of the trees. Lucius would not be the first to raise the alarm, however, as that might raise suspicions.

Much to his chagrin, his worthless simpering cousin had told him she and her husband would be unable to join him at the match. Lucius had not confided his reasoning to her, but rather acted the part of a caring uncle and declared his intention to attend the match nonetheless. He then had written to Michael Cartwright, a former schoolmate, who had agreed to join him. Michael, however, had not shown up yet. Lucius tapped his foot impatiently. It would be better for Michael not to show up at all, as late as the hour was.

There was little chance of his friend falling under any suspicion, and Lucius was more concerned that Michael might be taken by surprise if he showed up at the wrong moment. Just as Lucius found himself hoping Cartwright would not show up, he was rewarded with the sight of his friend walking towards him. Michael took a seat next to him without so much as a greeting and looked straight at the game progressing in front of him, but smiled slightly as Lucius' frown increased.

"Been a while, hasn't it, Lucius?" Michael asked without looking at him.

Lucius replied with a genuine smile and did not look at him either, "I believe it has."

"You're damn lucky I was already planning on coming for a visit, otherwise you'd never have dragged me away from the beautiful Veelas awaiting my return to France. Is there a specific reason you called me here, or were you simply looking to relive old memories?"

Lucius smiled. "Nothing as trivial as that, Michael. I called you so you could see with your own eyes that I'm about to win the wager we made some years ago."

Michael frowned and finally looked at him. "Wager? Can't say I remember it. I hope I didn't bet that old Egyptian amulet you seemed to love, because I don't have it anymore. One of my old employees wasn't happy with my decision to let him go, and he thought it would make a lovely parting gift. The bastard was long gone by the time I realized it was missing."

"A pity. We never actually set any terms for this particular wager, perhaps that is why you don't remember."

"I must have been drunker than hell when I made it if I don't remember."

"I'm sure you were sober."

Michael racked his memory, trying to think of some long forgotten bet that was important enough for Lucius to have called him back to his home country, especially since their correspondence was sparse, at best. "You're going to have to tell me, Lucius, because I have no idea what you're going on about."

"I don't know if you remember," Lucius began, lowering his voice to a whisper, "that we chose different sides in the last war. I remember very clearly how you told me I was choosing the wrong side, and that the Dark Lord would be defeated. And while you had a temporary victory when he disappeared, I'm afraid that is about to change,"

Michael's breath caught in his throat. "Surely you don't mean..."

"I do indeed."

Michael gave him a suspicious look, but said nothing.

Lucius went on, "I don't suppose that worries you much at the moment, does it? I'm sure you will be relatively safe in France… for a while."

"Now, see here, Lucius, you know I have nothing against purebloods being in charge and such, but right now I get the distinct impression that you're threatening me."

Lucius laughed. "No, I wouldn't threaten such an old friend. I know you were very reluctant to join us the first time, but I thought you might have changed your mind."

"No such luck, Lucius. I still stand by my morals."

"Very well, you're safe, in any case, unless you decide to join Dumbledore and fight against us."

Michael looked around, but no one was sitting overly close to them, and everyone was paying attention to the match, rather than their conversation. It was probably too loud for anyone to eavesdrop, in any case. "What makes you so confident, Lucius?"

"_I_ have the Potter brat."

Michael blanched. "Draco?"

"Don't be ridiculous. He is not in my home, but we have been hiding him all along."

"I figured as much. But you've managed to find... him?"

"I received the sign I had been waiting for. Two of my men should be travelling back to England as we speak, bringing with them our future."

"You're making no sense! Stop being so damn cryptic Lucius, and tell me what's on your mind!" Michael growled.

Lucius smiled at his friend and decided not to make him beg for the information. "The Dark Lord reached out to me, me alone, to bring him back to power. It all fell into place two days ago, when I received a visit from a dead man. Peter Pettigrew, to be more exact. He told me something very interesting, actually. Sirius Black did not betray the Potters and kill those muggles, it seems it was Pettigrew who was on our side all along."

"Your side, Malfoy. I have nothing to do with any of it."

"No, you don't. Yet, in any case. The Ministry has called off the search for Potter, but I have reason to believe Dumbledore has not. I have devised an ingenious plan to make sure that Dumbledore's attention is in the wrong place. Soon, the Dark Lord will rise, right under the nose of Albus Dumbledore."

"Dream on, Lucius, the Dark Lord may not be dead, but he has to be too weak to be restored. Otherwise he would not have been absent for so many years."

"You are right, he will undoubtedly be so weak that he felt he could not return. But we will procure an excellent restorative for him, Unicorn blood, and he should become strong enough in time, and under my care.

"Lucius, the most accessible place you might find Unicorn blood would be here at Hogwarts, in the Forbidden Forest, and surely you don't mean to do it literally under Dumbledore's nose! And the effects of Unicorn blood are temporary, at best."

"I am sure the Dark Lord has a plan to restore himself, his knowledge is beyond anything we can imagine between the two of us, Michael!"

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! You'll never pull it off! Here, right outside Hogwarts grounds? What marvellous distraction have you arranged that's supposed to keep Dumbledore out of your hair?"

"Ah, that should be arriving soon enough. Our dear friend Pettigrew will provide the distraction."

"You mean he's going to show up? How is he supposed to explain himself without giving everything away?"

"I never said he'd be _caught_, Michael. He should be running out of the forest any minute now, with a dozen of my men chasing him. Dumbledore and everyone here will see him, and before they even realize what is happening, my men will all Disapparate."

"Dammit, Lucius! You can't Apparate or Disapparate on school grounds! Or half of the forest, for that matter!"

Lucius paled, and Michael knew it was taking every ounce of self control that he possessed to keep himself from jumping up and causing a scene. He was muttering something under his breath, but Michael could not hear, and the best he could do was guess that it was a long line of profanities. Neither spoke for a minute while Lucius seemed to calm him considerably. Michael could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"Shitting hell, Lucius! They'll all be caught! Your men may keep their mouths shut out of loyalty, but Pettigrew won't. That man is a rat, if I ever met one."

And Michael didn't even know the half of it.

Lucius nodded. "I have to call it off. It will take me forever to get out of here and Apparate there. And it'll raise suspicion. Blasted bl-"

"Suspicion be damned, Lucius. Your image has never really been all that respectable, anyhow. Better have some speculation than an outright scandal and proof that you've been consorting with those blasted villains."

"I happen to be one of those villains you've got such praise for, Michael."

"Lucius, you're my friend. Whether I agree with your ideas or not, I don't want you to rot in Azkaban for them!"

Lucius said nothing, his mind working furiously in trying to find a way to get out of there and reach the other Death Eaters in time. He had a vague hope that one among those dunderheads might also be aware of the limitations of Apparition on school grounds. All his planning…

There was no way around it, he would have to go, and he did not even have to time to make his excuses and leave without it looking like he was sneaking out. Lucius rose, ready to leave. And as he turned to say farewell to his friend, he heard the screams.

From the Ravenclaw section.

Where he had stationed his people.

Some nine hundred pairs of eyes turned in that direction, Dumbledore's among them.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Peter appeared somewhere deep in the forest; it took him a second to spot the others already there. A minute later the rest of their party appeared and they all walked silently in what Peter assumed was the direction of the castle. The trees began to thin and the man at the lead held his hand up for them to stop.

One of the other Death Eaters made his way over to him, and Peter could not see who it was. The white masks covered all their faces and features. The man grabbed Peter's elbow and pulled him aside, away from the others.

"If anything goes wrong, I will blame _you_, Pettigrew, so make sure you don't slip up. If you try anything, I'll kill you myself."

Peter nodded, and was relieved to hear the hushed cry of, "Positions, now!" from one of the other Death Eaters.

They moved back towards the rest of the men, and despite Malfoy's insistence that he would be safe; Peter could not stop himself from shaking. He could not believe what he was being asked to do and hated the idea of doing it, but he had no choice.

It was becoming increasingly harder for Peter to breathe. He wished he had never gone to Malfoy. He should have made a run for it. By following Malfoy's plan, he would be revealing that he was alive, and then they would look for him. He was finding no comfort in the fact that he would be helping to bring back You-Know-Who.

Peter realized he would have been so much safer just staying out of the whole thing. He could have disappeared. After all, who could have tracked him down? Even when the Dark Lord decided to have him brought back, it might have taken them years to find him. But he had gone to them so willingly that-

"Dammit, Pettigrew, go!"

Peter found himself being pushed out of the cover of the trees. He stumbled in surprise and ran for a few feet before remembering he was supposed to be calling attention to himself.

"P-professor Dumbledore! Headmaster!"

No one was looking at him yet, so Peter screamed louder. He did not have to pretend to be panicked; his heart was already pounding so hard he thought his chest might explode. He heard a few screams coming from the spectator's area, and he assumed the others were already close behind him.

"Professor!" He tried again, "It-it's me, Peter! Peter Pettigrew."

Dumbledore was standing now, which was a good thing, as they were getting dangerously close to the Quidditch Pitch; they had obviously gotten the old man's attention. Peter deliberately tripped, and he felt the others reach him almost instantly. They all grabbed at him, and Peter glanced at Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye, already making his way down from the top of the stands as quickly as he could.

Peter tried to Disapparate.

There was complete silence among the Death Eaters for five precious seconds as they all realized they could not Disapparate, and they turned back and ran to the forest.

This was his chance. Peter transformed before the rest of the Death Eaters could leave and remove what little cover he could get. Dumbledore was almost at the bottom of the stands, with most of the staff behind him and his wand pointed in their direction. Peter could hear some of the teachers yelling spells and hexes, but they were too far away to reach them. He hardly noticed the panicked screaming or crying in his haste to run. He ran in the opposite direction, away from the Quidditch field and the Forbidden forest.

And just as he thought he might escape, he heard someone behind him growl, "Accio, rat!" and he felt himself flying back. He landed roughly in someone's hand, and all possibility of escape disappeared as he heard the word, "Stupefy."

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Adam knocked on the door to Malfoy Manor as hard as he could. He was fairly sure he had not been seen, but it would not do to linger. He and Malfoy had no discernable connection, as far as anyone knew, and he wanted to keep it that way. Minutes passed, and there was still no answer.

Adam did not know what Malfoy had been playing at, sending almost a dozen of their men, or what few were left of them, onto Hogwarts grounds. And, to top it off, who was Peter Pettigrew, and why did Lucius want him? It was just like Malfoy, the smug bastard, to keep them all in the dark so he could fancy himself the leader of the Dark Lord's men in his absence.

More importantly, Lucius did not know that the Potter brat had disappeared. Adam had not wanted to be the one to tell him, but it was inevitable at this point. Potter had been found by the Ministry. Adam was not privy to the details, but he knew the old headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was involved somehow. Everything had been top secret, and Adam had found out by sheer luck. He had, coincidentally, been in the Department of Authorized Muggle Artefacts while some rookie Auror bragged about his new assignment to the witch who filed the paperwork and approved the use of Ministry cars.

As far as Adam knew, no one knew exactly where Potter had been. Matthew seemed to be in little danger of being discovered, but Adam was not going to stop him from leaving England if he so wanted. He would send him an owl later, or perhaps contact him by floo to let him know there was no point in waiting to see if the boy would return. Adam's immediate concern at the moment was to warn Malfoy to keep a low profile, as the Ministry was on the lookout for strange activity. And a dead man coming back to life definitely qualified as strange.

"Dammit!" Adam growled, knocking angrily against the heavy wooden door once more.

There door finally opened a minute later and a house elf stood there, looking at him nervously. Adam tried to push the door open. "I need to see Lucius."

Adam found himself suddenly thrown back by the small creature's magic. "You cannot come in! Dobby has orders. Master is not home, and he told Dobby not to let anyone in without permission!"

Adam pulled out his wand. "Let me in, elf, or I swear I will-"

"I will thank you not to curse my elf in my own home," spoke a cold voice.

Adam looked up and saw a regal looking woman at the bottom of the stairs. Her expression was calm enough, but Adam could see her hand inside her robes, presumably on her wand. Narcissa Malfoy was no fool, he knew.

"Tell me, what is your business with my husband?"

Adam put his wand away and bowed. "Lady Malfoy, I am an… associate of your husband's."

Narcissa looked at him impatiently. "Lucius is not home. He attended the quidditch match at Hogwarts today, and it seems there was an incident. We are not expecting him soon, he is undoubtedly at the Ministry."

"That is why I am here, Madam. There is something Lucius needs to know." Adam put his hand on his left forearm, hoping she would catch the gesture. If she did, she gave no indication.

"Dobby, you may let him in and accompany him to the drawing room. And you know I do not like for our visitors to wander. You may wait for my husband to return if your business is truly important, Mr….?"

"Adam. But Mrs. Malfoy, it is imperative that I speak to your husband, especially if he is at the Ministry now-"

"You are more than welcome to seek him out at the Ministry if your business is truly urgent, Mr. _Adam_," she responded haughtily.

Adam scowled. "Lady Malfoy, you know what I must speak to you husband about. The boy has been found and-"

"I don't want to hear another word!" Narcissa Malfoy almost shrieked, losing her composure for a minute. "Please follow my elf down to the dungeons. A couple of his other _associates_ are alreadythere waiting for his return as well." Without another word, she swept away.

Adam followed the elf down a long staircase to the dungeons of the manor. The elf showed him into the largest chamber, where two other men were sitting across from each other in a game of wizard's chess. By the dim torchlight Adam could see a locked cell, and a man crumpled up in the very corner.

One of the two men he vaguely recognized as Crabbe, but the identity of the younger one was a mystery, as was the identity of the man in the cell.

"Crabbe. Where is Lucius?"

The heavyset man looked up. "Adam, is that you? I didn't know you were still with us. Why didn't you join us today?"

"I wasn't told." Just like Malfoy to give him a taste of his own medicine for keeping him in the dark about the Potter brat for so long.

"Just as well," replied the younger man. "We were almost caught. Pettigrew tried to run away, but we got him. Everyone else went home to await instructions, but I was keeping Crabbe company. Someone has to guard Pettigrew, you know. Wouldn't want him to double cross us and go blab to the Ministry."

"So Peter Pettigrew works for us?"

"That's what Malfoy says."

"Was the whole thing planned, then? You were sighted on purpose?"

"We were a distraction. Don't you know about anything?"

Adam frowned. It was not wise to let them know he had been kept completely in the dark. Instead of replying he turned to Crabbe. "I need you to go find Malfoy. It's important."

"Can't do that. Besides, he's not lost. He's at the Ministry."

"I don't think he is anymore. And I can't bloody go look for him myself."

The younger man raised an eyebrow. "He mentioned earlier he was going to go see some guy, Reid, I think."

Adam cursed. Malfoy was going to find out in entirely the wrong way. He did not envy Matthew.

"What is Malfoy up to, exactly?"

The younger man smiled smugly. "You don't know? We are going to bring him back. The Dark Lord."


	14. A Betrayal of Ideals, A Rushed Decision

Michael had a bad feeling. He had tried to floo Lucius a few times, but had gotten no answer. After the Hogwarts staff had sent all the spectators home, Lucius had gone off with Dumbledore to see the Minister.

Lucky bastard. None of his Death Eaters had gotten caught, and no one knew how Pettigrew had disappeared. Well, Lucius might, but he sure as hell was not sharing. Michael was both relieved and apprehensive.

Lucius was off the hook, which he was glad for. But his plan had caused the chaos he had intended it to. The Ministry was probably shoulder-deep in investigations by now and Dumbledore would probably be there too; the old man was one of the most powerful wizards in politics. Hogwarts would be extremely well protected, but without Dumbledore there, it was not likely that the staff would patrol the Forbidden Forest, which was perhaps where the Dark Lord might arrive.

Could Michael truly allow Lucius to go through with his plans? The Dark Lord's return to power would change so much. Thousands -millions, probably- would die. The progress that had been made in the wizarding world during the last few years would be completely undone. Michael had been young when it had first happened, and he had wisely stayed out of it. Not fighting against Lucius for obvious reasons, and not joining him for reasons that were even more obvious. But Michael was older now. Could he truly walk away this time without-?

"Why so serious, Michael?"

Michael turned toward the fireplace, and, sure enough, was faced with Lucius Malfoy, who was looking incredibly smug.

"Done covering your ass, Malfoy?"

Lucius smiled cynically. "I admit I had not foreseen that fault in my plans, but everything turned out alright, didn't it? It's a sign, Michael, that the Dark Lord must be reborn."

"No, I'd say it's more like a sign that you're the luckiest bastard that ever lived."

"I make my own luck. As planned, Dumbledore is at the Ministry of Magic, trying to sort everything out. I believe they plan to question Black, but that won't affect the outcome of tonight."

"Where are you headed now, Lucius?"

Lucius leaned against the fireplace. "I got a message earlier from one of the men I sent to look for the Dark Lord. They've found him, or at least they know where he is. We are on a rather tight schedule, but I'm optimistic that we will make it. Right now I need to get in touch with Adam so he can tell me where to collect the Potter brat."

"I thought you had him."

"Absolutely not. He's been staying with Matthew. Perhaps you've met him before… Not that it matters."

"You've always given me the distinct impression that you were in charge, Lucius. So why does _he_ have the boy?"

His authority and power questioned, Lucius sprung to his own defence. "I couldn't possibly have the boy with me, he could be found. Matthew, on the other hand, does not have the power or influence that I have. He is less likely to be caught. He's nobody."

"If I recall correctly, he was one of You-Know-Who's favourites. He made his way into his favour, though no one ever knew exactly what he did to earn it." Michael knew very little of their dealings, he was only repeating things Lucius had once told him.

However, it seemed to be enough to make Lucius angry. "Matthew won't be a problem this time. He may tell the Dark Lord all about his efforts to hide Potter, but in the end, I'll still be the one responsible for bringing him back. I'll still be his favourite."

Somewhat defeated, Michael nodded. He picked up his wand and began waving it around, using it to move the clothing strewn around the room into the suitcase.

"What are you doing, Michael?"

"I'm going back to France. It's been swell, Lucius, really, but I have to get back."

Lucius spoke softly. "Running, Michael?"

Michael slammed his wand down on the desk. "I don't know what you expect of me. Certainly you don't expect me to stay here and watch the show. I won't join you. You know that."

"What a pity. There is much to be gained, Michael."

"For you, Lucius. Not for me"

"It's not like you have very much to lose either."

Michael froze.

"Yes, you're right. I have nothing to lose," Michael said slowly. "Nothing." He shook his head and continued with his packing.

"So your answer is still no?"

Michael turned back to him again. "Yes, Malfoy, I'll stand my ground on this one. Drop by if you're ever in France. Maybe you can bring your son along and we can tell him stories about the good old days."

"I'll consider it," Malfoy answered, not taking his eyes off Michael.

Michael nodded and turned around to continue packing, giving his back to Lucius. He stood there for a few minutes, directing everything with his wand. When the job was done, he turned around again. Sure enough, Malfoy was gone.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Pettigrew awoke in a dark room, with cold stones digging into his back. Where was he? He sat up slowly, every limb aching.

"Wake up, Pettigrew."

Pettigrew looked towards the door, where he could see the outline of man by the light coming in from the other door.

"You could stay here and rot for all I care," the man said, "but I need you to do something for me. Malfoy thinks he can take all the credit for bringing back the Dark Lord, but I'm not going to let that happen. I need you to go and find Malfoy and tell him Crabbe sent you to warn him that they received a message from one of our ministry spies, and we know where the boy is."

Pettigrew's mind cleared instantly. "Potter?"

"Yes, you idiot. Tell him Goyle sent word that they were delayed and will not be reaching England until late tomorrow. As for Potter, tell him we've sent our best Legilimens, and we'll have the boy to him this time tomorrow. And if he asks why they sent you, tell him the Ministry is monitoring his home and you were the only one who would be able to sneak out undetected."

Peter sat there, stunned. The man (Peter's mind offered him no clues as to who he was) tossed a wand at him, and Peter picked it up from the floor. Something was not right.

"Whatever you do, do not tell him anything about me being here."

"Wait…You're trying to double cross him!"

"I should have known you would make this difficult. _Imperio_."

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Michael Cartwright sent out what was supposed to be his last owl for the night. At first, he had been completely at a loss. However, it had occurred to him that he had an old contact at the Daily Prophet, and almost every witch and wizard in Europe had a subscription. As it turned out, Matthew Reid was no exception. There had been several by the same name, but only one in Muggle London.

Michael had found the house where Reid lived. Or at least where he had lived only a week before. According to the old muggle Reid had been renting from, Reid and the small boy that lived with him had moved away. Michael had gone back to his contact at the Daily Prophet, who had put him in touch with the old witch in charge of dispatch.

"These people just don't understand!" The witch had complained. "We get them their newspaper every day without fail so they think it just delivers itself! Owls come back behind schedule all the time… people not being home we can deal with… but when they move away altogether...? And then the owls come pouring in with complaints that they're not getting their paper! I know the one you're talking about. Threw off Tilly's route something terrible the first day. I updated it in my records, if you'll give me a minute."

And now Michael stood outside the gate to the small house. It was directly across the street from a small park, and it looked almost abandoned. Michael walked to the gate and held his wand at the ready. As hard as he tried, he could not remember any invisibility charms. It was probably his nerves. What would he do if he was caught? What would he say? He could do a quick memory charm, assuming he was not met with the sight of a half dozen Death Eaters.

He opened the gate and winced at the squeaking sound it made. There were shutters covering the windows, and one could not see inside the house. There was nothing in particular about it, but the house itself gave off an air of not being very welcoming. The door was not locked and Michael sensed no danger, so he walked in.

The house was fairly clean, if a bit dishevelled, as if no one had bothered to do much recently. Michael wandered into one of the rooms. It was a rather plain, almost empty room except for an unmade bed and pair of trousers on the floor. Michael kneeled down and opened one of the drawers of the dressed. All the clothes were small, probably for a boy of about five. That was right, was it not? That was how long it had been since the Dark Lord had been defeated, and Harry Potter had been only a baby. The boy would be about five.

It had to be Potter's room. Michael stood up and made his way to the second and last bedroom. This bedroom was more personalized. It was fairly clean, but there were several things strewn about. Just as he bent down to examine a piece of toast on the floor, he heard the fireplace in the living room flare to life.

He looked around the room urgently, looking for somewhere to hide. And there, in the closet, he saw it. Lying on the closet floor was an invisibility cloak. It lay there shimmering innocently, as if it had slid off its wearer or off a hanger. In one agile swoop, he picked it up and covered himself. He heard the fireplace flare up again, and moved quietly towards the door.

"Matthew, you stupid-"

"Lay off, Malfoy. It's not my fault. If you hadn't-"

"Don't try to blame me. It was your fault. You were irresponsible and-"

Michael watched from the bedroom door as Lucius and Matthew argued. Lucius was standing by the fireplace, completely rigid. He was glaring at Matthew, and his eyes were shining with some unknown purpose.

Matthew was sitting tensely on the couch. His face was buried in his hands, and he looked about ready to tear out his hair.

"What happened, Mathew?"

Mathew shook his head. "The kid ran away, Lucius. He found Grant. I don't know what he was told, but I tried to do a memory charm on him, and the kid took off. I Apparated into the park because I knew that was where he'd go. I spotted him but then everything just... I was stunned. I don't know. I find it a little too convenient for him to have stumbled on to another wizard. Something happened but I don't know what."

Lucius began to pace back and forth. "He's gone then? Gone."

Mathew stood up. "Yes, Malfoy. Gone."

"Gone. Gone! Do you know what you've done? Do you realize all the work that has gone into this?" Lucius glared at Mathew, his wand pointed straight at Matthew's heart, but Matthew stood his ground, chin raised and looking neither defiant nor scared. Mathew was looking at Lucius quite calmly, facing a storm that few others could have endured. They stood there in front of each other for more than a minute, neither budging, until Lucius finally growled and turned away.

"We must find him."

"I doubt we will. Adam is using his contacts inside the Ministry to try to find out if they know anything. Something is being kept quiet, and we suspect he has already been found."

"You idiots. Sirius Black had been caught. That is what the Ministry is keeping quiet, though I cannot fathom why. There is still a chance that the boy-"

"We have decided to cut our losses, Lucius. I am about to leave this house, and England, for that matter. We risk too much by pursuing this further."

"Leave England?" Lucius nearly screamed, "You cannot be thinking of running after you ruined everything. All of my carefully made plans!"

"Carefully made? I heard what happened earlier at Hogwarts, Malfoy! You never told us you had taken such steps to resurrect the Dark Lord. You never even implied that you had any idea of where he was. You simply thought you'd spring this on us-"

"Me? What about you? The boy has been gone for _days_! Why the hell did you not tell me?"

"I planned to find him myself. And when I could not, Adam and I agreed it was best if we let the matter rest."

Lucius whirled around. "Who else knew? Who was involved?"

"Only Adam and myself, Malfoy. The way this whole mess started… just the two of us."

"The hell it was! The triumph of obtaining the Potter brat was for all of us!"

"Yet we did all the work," Matthew said, sitting back down.

"It is of no consequence now," Lucius spat, "I must find some way to fix this situation. The Dark Lord is being brought as we speak... now it must be postponed."

Michael struggled to hold in a sigh of relief. Postponed. The horror that would come with the war was to be put off for a while longer, then.

Matthew, for his part, seemed uninterested.

Lucius began to pace again. "Unless we don't use the brat," Lucius muttered suddenly.

Matthew's head snapped up, and Michael's insides froze very suddenly.

"It can be done," Lucius continued, "we need the blood of an enemy. Just about any wizard will do."

"What are you going on about?" Matthew asked irritably.

"Once my men found the Dark Lord, they sent word. He directed me toward an old volume containing a spell that might help restore him. We require the blood of an enemy, but not necessarily the blood of Potter. Our master was pleased that we had him in our possession, but he will understand, certainly. He will forgive me, being the one to bring him back, for the mistake that you made.

"Then why are you still here, pestering me about the boy, if you are able to carry out your plans without him?" Mathew asked, standing up once again.

"Poetic justice, I suppose. I wanted the same murderer to be the bringer of life."

"The boy is no murderer, Malfoy," Mathew answered coldly, "You have a very twisted mind to be thinking that way."

Lucius did not answer.

"What is it that you want to me to do tonight, then, if I am not leaving England?"

Lucius waved his question away. "The Dark Lord may not arrive until tomorrow. Stay here and be ready for anything. Considering Pettigrew made all of this possible, I think I'll give him the honour of participating. Tell Adam to call those from before who are still loyal, and I'll make your excuses with the Dark Lord. When I give word, you will order them to Apparate to the forest to join us. Then we may celebrate," Lucius finished with a malicious smile.

"What spell did the Dark Lord lead you to?"

"Why do you want to know, Matthew?"

"Do you have everything you will need? It must be some powerful dark magic."

Lucius grimaced. "Well, it is rather obscure. But the main components will not be too difficult to procure. Blood of the enemy, flesh of the servant, and bone of the father."

Mathew sat back. "Oh, and you happen to know who the Dark Lord's father _is_?"

"Not yet," Lucius admitted, "but I expect to find out once the Dark Lord arrives. It was he who directed me toward that spell, after all. "

"I wouldn't be so sure. He may not trust you that much."

Lucius whirled around angrily. "What _are_ you implying, Matthew? Are you trying to say _you_ know who his father is, or where his remains rest?"

"I can tell you with absolute certainty that I have been closer to them than you ever have. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have many things to do, and I'm sure you do too." Mathew stood up and turned away from Lucius, walking into the kitchen.

And Michael made up his mind.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

Matthew paced back and forth in the living room of the small house. Something was not right. No, even worse... nothing was right. But, at the very least, Malfoy had no idea where the boy was. His plans to bring back the dark lord were beyond worrisome, however. Matthew had imagined everything to be over. He had already begun planning his new life, and preparing to disappear as soon as Adam sent word.

The missing boy had definitely put a damper on Malfoy's plans, but he seemed hell bent on resurrecting the Dark Lord anyway. And if that happened, Matthew's own plans were shot to hell. He would never be able to outrun You-Know-Who.

Matthew knew that if the Dark Lord was to come back, there was nothing he could do to stop it. However, there was nothing wrong with trying to improve his odds. He scribbled a quick message on a spare bit of parchment and made it untraceable. Albus Dumbledore, he knew, would understand what Matthew himself did not. The Dark Lord had once told Matthew something that had not made sense to him at the time, but was slowly becoming clear.

The Dark Lord, Matthew knew, had a way of making all of his followers feel valuable in his eyes. Matthew had been puzzled, at first, as to why the Dark Lord had been so approving of his having murdered his father, who had been a pureblood. But after Matthew's formal branding as a Death Eater, the Dark Lord had summoned him to an old rundown house in a tiny muggle town to present him with what Matthew assumed must have been a gift. His stepmother, obviously taken from the muggle prison she had been sent to after taking the blame for her husband's death, had been gagged and bound and left for him to torture.

Matthew had hated the woman and been content to indulge the Dark Lord and use the Cruciatus Curse on her a couple of times before putting her out of her misery. And there, the Dark Lord had told him that they now had something in common. For in that house, _he_ had killed his own father, and now Matthew had eliminated what remained of his own shameful past as well. The Dark Lord had gone on to say that Matthew's father had been a bigger disgrace than his own, having chosen his destiny. One knew never to question the Dark Lord, so he had remained quiet.

The Dark Lord had told Matthew that he had a bright future, and that soon he would be called on to complete a job for his master that would be the most important of his life. But Matthew had not seen the Dark Lord after that. The summons had never come, and the Dark Lord had been defeated shortly after.

Matthew opened the window and summoned his owl. He suspected that the Riddle House meant something, and to lead Dumbledore there might be enough to thwart Lucius' plans.

One thing Matthew _was_ sure of, however: The boy, Harry, was being kept safe by the person who had found him. He may already be in the hands of the Ministry, considering the note that had been scribbled at the bottom of the boy's letter. Before Matt could even worry about why that letter had brought him any amount of comfort, his fireplace lit up.

"Malfoy...!" A small man stumbled out and looked around. "Malfoy, I found him! We'll have him!"

Matthew looked over at the intruder babbling nonsense. His somewhat ratty face seemed familiar, but he found it impossible to place him. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

The man straightened up and replied, "Peter Pettigrew. Where's Lucius? They told me I could find him here."

Matthew looked him up and down. Pettigrew the rat. Of course. He shook his head and waved the question away. "You were told wrong. Now, get out."

Pettigrew's eyes narrowed and he gave Matthew an insolent glare. "So... you're the infamous Matthew. Well trusted by the dark lord, but a complete failure that couldn't even keep track of a little boy."

Matthew made a sound of disgust and turned away.

"Lucky for us," Pettigrew continued in a whisper, "_we've found him._"

Matthew whirled around to face him. "You're lying."

Pettigrew laughed maniacally. "Dumbledore left him with muggles! I'll have the boy by this time tomorrow." Pettigrew boasted. He then turned around and grabbed a handful of floo powder from the top of the fireplace, talking to himself more than anything, "... everything I've done will be recognized."

Before Matthew could as much as blink, Pettigrew was gone. The man was mad; he had to be. Dumbledore probably had Harry, and none of the Death Eaters would be mad enough to try to take him from his custody. What was going on?

He could not just sit and wait anymore.

He could not betray the Death Eaters.

This had to be a nightmare.

A part of him was protesting at the idea of the boy being hurt after he had taken all those years raising him and keeping him safe. And Harry was only a boy. But sending Dumbledore that owl had been enough of a risk; Matthew could not do anything more without risking his own skin.

There was a chance, albeit a small one, that Matthew could find the boy and hide him somewhere to keep him safe. Let the Dark Lord be reborn a different way, if he must. Matthew had to at least find out where the boy was. Perhaps he could keep an eye on him, and if he was caught, he could simply claim he wanted to take the boy to the Dark Lord himself. If he deemed the kid to be safe, Matthew would make a run for it on his own and hope that _someone_ stopped Malfoy before he could ruin Matthew's dreams of freedom.

His resolve strengthened, Matthew turned around to grab his invisibility cloak from the bedroom and was shocked to find Michael Cartwright standing at the doorway, cloak in hand and wand pointed at his heart.

"Stupefy."

Thoughts of warning Dumbledore and saving Harry ran through Matthew's mind before the spell hit him, but Michael did not know that.

Michael gave a sigh of relief. Matthew would not be able to pass on the message anymore, and as long as he could catch Pettigrew in time, Lucius would never know Michael had been involved. Lucius would not become the murderer of a six year old child.

But if Lucius ever found out... Michael shuddered to think. Lucius was like his brother, and Michael decided he would have to become his brother's keeper. He would save Lucius from himself, if he had to.

Michael glanced at the tied-up Death Eater and looked around, his pulse racing. Where could he hide him? If anyone were to come looking, they would know immediately that he had been attacked. And Michael had no way of knowing if Mathew would able to identify him.

Finally he settled for dragging him to the bedroom and covering the unconscious man with the invisibility cloak. That done, he walked over to the fireplace and, with a spell, blocked access to the Floo network. It might be days now before the man was found.

His plan was nowhere near perfect. In fact, it had more flaws than virtues. Would he really be able to stroll in, take Potter, and take him to Dumbledore, all without being found, or worse, identified?

Lucius would kill him.

But if he did not do anything, the Dark Lord would kill thousands.

His choice was made.


	15. An Abundance of Truths

Sirius Black was woken from a fitful sleep by two pairs of hands grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him awake. Still half-asleep, he felt himself being dragged out of his cell, felt himself sliding on the hard stone floor. His flimsy robes did little to protect him from the cold, which, in turn, kept him in a hazy state that kept him from being completely awake and alert.

He made an effort to stand up, but whoever had him would not stop walking, and whenever Sirius made an effort to stand up, he would just stumble and cause the men to strengthen their grips on him.

Finally he was thrown against a wall, and someone barked, "Get up, you slime!"

Sirius opened one eye and groaned. There were several people around the room, none that he recognized. Two men stood on either side of him; they both grabbed him by the arms and finally threw him into a hard wood chair.

Sirius heard hurried footsteps, several sets of them. Three more people entered the room. Sirius's vision was blurry, but he recognized the white hair and long, white beard that belonged to Albus Dumbledore. The second figure was a little unfamiliar, and it took him a minute to realize it was Fudge, the Minister of Magic. He did not bother trying to recognize the last man, he was fairly sure he had never seen him before.

Sirius felt he certainly would not forget someone like that. The man was huge. Well, perhaps not huge, but definitely much bigger than the average man. He seemed to be only about half a foot shorter than someone else Sirius had known. Sirius could not think of the name, but he remembered a small hut and big dog, and a face mostly covered in the man's beard…

The big man pinched Sirius's nose and pushed his head back, using his other hand to keep Sirius' mouth open while Sirius struggled for breath. Sirius had only taken a few breaths before he felt a liquid being emptied down his throat, and he almost choked. Just as he thought he might black out again, the big man removed his hand, and Sirius was able to breathe again. He swallowed a few times and finally opened his eyes again.

"How long will it take?" Fudge snapped.

The answer came from behind Sirius. "A few seconds, Minister."

He felt very uncomfortable, but he doubted anyone would appreciate the comment, much less do anything to remedy it.

"What did you do to Peter Pettigrew?" Fudge barked too close to Sirius's ear for comfort.

Sirius heard his voice say, "Nothing." He knew it could not have been anyone else's voice, but he did not remember giving his brain the order to reply to the question.

"I am not playing, Black! What did you and your... _people_ do to him?"

Sirius grunted in response, having no idea what was going on.

Dumbledore stepped forward. "Cornelius, perhaps you should leave me alone with him."

Sirius shook his head frantically, or as frantically as he could muster. He could not be alone with Dumbledore.

Fudge looked at Dumbledore doubtfully. "Now, really-"

"I insist. It is imperative that I get an answer at once. After he talks you may go ahead and question him again for your records."

Fudge frowned, and muttered, "It's not like I want to be anywhere near this scum." He waved his hand and motioned for the rest to follow. "Are you sure you don't want anyone to stay... just in case?"

Dumbledore shook his head so slightly that Sirius might have imagined it. "I think he will be more likely to talk without everyone crowding him, Cornelius."

Fudge nodded curtly and left, with everyone else following behind.

Dumbledore turned Sirius's chair towards the table, and he sat down across from him. He poured water in a glass and gave it to Sirius. Even though the gesture was kind, nothing in his demeanour had changed.

"Tell me, Black, what happened the night of the Potters' death."

Sirius looked at him, and the words began tumbling out of his mouth, once again without his brain giving the order to start. "I killed them."

Dumbledore's expression hardened and Sirius went on, "I told James to trust him... I thought it was Remus, that he was the spy. I never thought Peter... and then they were dead. I went after him."

"You thought Remus Lupin was working for Voldemort?"

Sirius nodded. "Everyone knew I'd be his Secret Keeper. He wouldn't risk having you because you were too important to the cause... I told him to trust Peter. It was an extra precaution... I delivered them to him..." He knew he was probably making little sense, but Dumbledore did not seem confused.

"So you killed him?"

Sirius shook his head frantically, and realized his mistake when his neck was unable to hold the weight any longer and his head fell forward without him being able to stop it. Dumbledore took his wand and put it under his chain, exerting a slight bit of pressure, and pushing his chin up until he was able to hold it up on his own.

"I thought he'd killed himself... and then I saw him running... hiding in the sewer with all the other rats."

Dumbledore nodded, but his stony expression did not change.

"If Mr. Pettigrew had been alive, he would have been seen leaving the scene. Remember, the biggest part of him they ever found was a finger."

"He must have cut it off... I saw him, I'd recognize him anywhere. I can pick him out of a million other rats."

"Rats, Mr. Black?"

Sirius nodded, but did not understand what was happening, so he said no more.

"Was Peter Pettigrew an Animagus?"

"Yes."

"Are you an Animagus, Black?"

Sirius nodded.

"And Peter Pettigrew could transform into a rat?"

Sirius nodded again. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," he said, as if it explained everything.

"You're trying to tell me Peter Pettigrew was a spy for Voldemort?"

Another nod.

"And what did Remus Lupin have to do with this?"

"Nothing... I thought he... he was the traitor."

"Then were you Secret Keeper to the Potters or not?"

He shook his head a little less vigorously this time.

"Then, if you and Pettigrew switched, why was I not told?"

Sirius blinked. "I don't know. I-I thought James... We both agreed the less people that knew... but we trusted you. And he didn't tell ... I don't know."

"So you believed Remus Lupin to be the traitor, and switched without his knowledge?"

At Sirius's nod, Dumbledore continued, "And you believe Pettigrew told Voldemort where Lily and James Potter were hiding? After that night, you went off in search of Pettigrew and tried to kill him, but he transformed and you killed 12 other people instead?"

Sirius shook his head. "That wasn't me. I-I... everything just exploded around me! I almost... then I thought he had killed himself. I saw the people and the blood... and I saw him run on top of one of the bodies, like a rat on a decaying animal... and then he was gone in the sewer."

"He caused the explosion himself."

Sirius nodded. He let his head hang, finally too weak to keep holding it up on his own.

Dumbledore looked at him, but Sirius saw no pity in his eyes. "I'm afraid you must suffer another round of questioning, but I'm sure the minister will want to hear this testimony himself."

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

"I don't believe it," Cornelius Fudge answered brusquely.

"It's all true," Sirius grunted from his chair by the fire.

"Cornelius, Black has been interviewed under Veritaserum, and his story rings true. The evidence so far does not contradict it, just the opposite. I think the wisest thing to do now is to take the information he has given us and attempt to verify it. If he is right, then Pettigrew is either working with former Death Eaters as part of an elaborate plan or he is running away from them for unknown reasons. You know as well as I that one cannot Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts, and Pettigrew's disappearance earlier could very well be an Animagus transformation."

"And the attacks on muggles? Why did they start after he escaped Azkaban?"

"The attacks may have simply been a coincidence. Much like Black's escape, the attacks were undoubtedly a result of the end of the search for Harry Potter. In fact, one could even argue that Black has an alibi."

"What about the boy, Dumbledore? Harry Potter! Black had him."

"Potter's account of those events does not fit very well with what we thought we knew about Sirius Black. I am positive that if we were to ask Black his version of those events, his story would fit perfectly with Harry's and be significantly less malicious than we had imagined."

Fudge scowled and motioned to one of the wizard guards to approach them. "Get in touch with Dolores Umbridge. Ask her to bring Harry Potter to us."

"To Azkaban, Cornelius?"

Fudge blinked. "Of course, what am I saying? Tell her to have the boy waiting in my office in half an hour." To Dumbledore, he said, "We will interview Black again and then Potter. But if this is a waste of time, Dumbledore-"

"Better safe than sorry, Cornelius. What we need now is answers."

Fudge nodded and went back to his chair across from Sirius.

"How did you get a hold of Harry Potter?"

Sirius's chin had been resting on his chest, but his head snapped up at the question. "Where's Harry?" he croaked out.

"Potter is safe, but we need to know how he came to be in your custody."

"I found him. I had escaped, and I was going to go to the service. And we were at the park. I found him, but I didn't know it was him. I wrote to- I wrote to _you_, Professor. I thought he'd been kidnapped or... or... The one he was with was a Death Eater. And I wrote to you so you could get him. I needed to find Harry, you see, but then when I took him to you-it _was_ Harry. I was giving him back because I didn't know. He was different. And I never thought I- he was living with a man who was supposed to be his godfather. But I'm his godfather, Professor, you know that. And he ran because- well, I think he tried to put a spell on him."

"You're making no sense, Black," Fudge barked.

Sirius glared at him as best he could. "Occupational hazard for Azkaban prisoners."

"Watch your step Black. I don't believe you, and I certainly don't plan to let you go free. Why, I-"

"Cornelius, you are very tense," Dumbledore intervened, "I do not think Azkaban is the best place for us at this time, with our nerves the way they are. Perhaps we should leave for the Ministry now? Black and Harry must both tell us their story, and we will summon Remus Lupin, though I suspect he will already be waiting when we arrive. With all the relevant parties there, perhaps we can make sense of all of this."

Fudge scowled. "Take Black out of Azkaban? Do you think that is safe, Dumbledore? I can't have Dementors wandering around the Ministry, either."

Dumbledore shook his head. "There will be no need, Cornelius. Sirius will not try anything. He has too much to lose."

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

"Don't tell my aunt," Harry whispered to Lupin as they were ushered into an office, "But I'm kind of glad you came to get me. I know my aunt was mad that she and my uncle had to come home from dinner early, but I was getting tired of all those cats. If it gets really late, can I spend the night somewhere else?"

Mr. Lupin frowned. "Is it really bad at your aunt's house, Harry?"

"No, but my cousin cut holes in my blanket, so I get cold at night."

Lupin looked at Harry, still frowning. "I'll tell Dumbledore. Meanwhile, we brought you here because something has happened. We need you to have to talk to Dumbledore and Minister Fudge."

"Oh," Harry answered. He sat on the chair in front of the desk, but Lupin stayed by the door. Little more than five minutes had passed when he heard hurried footsteps through the hall. Lupin opened the door wide, and in stepped four people. One of them was the old man with the long white hair. Another was the man from before and the third one was Lester, who did not look too happy. The fourth was a thin figure wearing dark robes, and he looked like-

"Charlie!" Harry jumped off his hair, but before he could move an inch more, Lupin grabbed his shoulder.

"Sit down, Harry."

Harry could feel his face wrinkling up in a pout at Lupin's harsh voice. Had he done something wrong? Charlie was looking at Harry, and he looked so sad, too.

"Harry?"

Harry smiled. "Hi, Charlie!" he said, waving eagerly. Maybe he had not gotten Charlie in trouble after all.

"Harry, have you been doing well at your aunt's house?" The old man asked. Harry nodded, sticking his hand in his pocket and feeling the bag of candies Lupin had given him before Lester had dropped him off at his aunt's.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, Harry, we need you to tell us something. First, who was the person you lived with before Charlie found you?"

"That was Matt," Harry answered, "he was supposed to be my godfather, but then he's not."

"No," Sirius rasped out, "Harry, I'm-"

Dumbledore interrupted. "I'll have to ask you to please be quiet, Mr-"

"Brown," Harry added helpfully, "Charlie Brown."

"Charlie Brown? Indeed. Please hold your tongue, Mr. Brown." Dumbledore's expression was stern.

"Well, he had a wand. Like you all do, and he pointed it at this man who was in our house. Then Matt left and I found him, the man, that is. I was just taking him some toast, but then he tried to take me with him. He said Matt killed my parents and would kill me too. Then Matt came in and got mad. They got in a fight, then Matt kicked the other man and then he didn't move anymore. Then Matt pointed his... wand at me, and I ran because... well, I was afraid of it."

"What did you do after that, Harry?" The man sitting on the other side of the desk asked.

"Well, sir-"

"You can call me Mr. Fudge."

"Well, Mr. Fudge, I ran into the park. Then I found Charlie. Matt was chasing me, but Charlie pointed his wand at Matt, and-"

"His wand?" Mr. Fudge asked, glaring at Charlie.

Harry nodded.

All eyes were on Charlie.

The old man, Dumbledore, looked at Charlie seriously. "How did you acquire a wand, Black?"

"I bought it. I went to Knockturn Alley and bought some Polyjuice Potion. I knew I'd need a wand, so I bought it."

"What would you need a wand for?" Dumbledore asked coldly.

"I wanted to find Harry. And I planned to ki- find Pettigrew."

Dumbledore nodded. "What happened then, Harry?"

"Matt fell, and Charlie took me to his house. Then I stayed with him, and he told me he was going to send me to you, because maybe you could find me parents. And that if no one wanted me, he'd take me with him. I didn't know I had parents. Well, I don't, but I have an aunt who is taking care of me, so you don't need to worry anymore, Charlie." Harry added that last part for Charlie.

"Did anything happen while you were at Mr. Brown's house?"

"That night I went to sleep, and we woke up. I burnt the toast, so he made hotcakes. He helped me try to learn the alphabet- I study all the letters I remember everyday still- and he let me write a letter to Matt to let him know I was okay. But Matt didn't write back, did he, Charlie? We watched the tellyvision and he showed me how to use a wand and then he told me someone was going to pick me up the next day when he came back from mailing letters.

"I went to sleep again and then I woke up and we had breakfast. Charlie left after he said goodbye, then David came to pick me up, and we went to meet you. But then... were you David, Charlie? Because David took me, but then he wasn't there, and you were."

Sirius nodded.

"And this is all that happened?" Fudge asked Harry.

Harry nodded.

Dumbledore also nodded. He motioned to the big man, Lester. "Take Harry Potter out of here. Stay in the waiting room, and keep an eye on him."

"Excuse me, but I don't want to go." Harry shook his head. "I'll stay really quiet."

"Harry..." Dumbledore began, but Harry shook his head vigorously.

"Please, sir-"

Fudge looked at Harry. "Well, Dumbledore, perhaps-"

"No," Sirius and Remus said at the same time, to the surprise of everyone else. Lupin was rather taken aback, but Sirius plunged on, "I don't want him here for this. Not for what I have to say."

~.~.~

~.~.~

For the second time that night, Sirius Black was given Veritaserum. Enough, he was sure, that he would be blurting out his secrets for months to come. And yet, Fudge hardly seemed satisfied with that, asking over and over if they had a stronger truth potion.

Fudge was sitting behind his desk, Dumbledore standing behind him. Remus Lupin was in the opposite corner of the room, one hand stuck in his pocket, tightly holding his wand.

"Who was the secret keeper for James and Lily Potter?" Dumbledore asked for the second time.

"Peter Pettigrew was their secret keeper."

"Why? Was there a change of plans? Why were you not chosen?"

"I _was_ chosen, Professor. James wanted me to do it, but I couldn't. I was afraid that it would be too easy for the Death Eaters to figure it out. So I told him to ask Peter instead, and I would serve as a decoy. I thought everyone would assume I had done it, and no one would ever suspect Peter. And that is what happened, but not as I planned," Sirius answered bitterly.

"And why did you convince James Potter to change his mind? To help You-Know-Who?" Fudge barked.

Sirius shook his head. "No... no, I thought... well, I thought Remus was the spy," Sirius glanced up at Lupin, and quickly looked down again. He continued quickly, as if to explain himself, "I- well, Peter was always around. He was always making sure Lily and James and Harry were okay, and he would always drop by to check on them... but Remus started drifting away from us. He was hardly ever around, and-"

"I was keeping them safe."

Sirius looked up at Remus, and Remus went on, "Being a werewolf, I had already been approached by Death Eaters. Twice. I told Lily and James about it the first time, but I did not mention it to them when it happened a second time. Voldemort," Fudge swallowed, "thought I would be a very useful spy, and he thought that what I am would... that my nature would make it easier for me to betray my friends. They play mind games to make you believe something that you know is not true. I started doubting myself, until I decided to make myself less valuable to him. I only stopped by the house when I could; when I was sure I was not being followed."

Sirius said nothing, so Dumbledore continued. "What exactly happened, Sirius? On that street?"

Sirius shook his head. "I thought about that a lot. In Azkaban, I mean. And I guess... I always believed he'd done it. That he'd committed suicide. I was carted off to Azkaban immediately, so I didn't-. Then one night, one of the wizard guards was there, by my cell. He was saying things; he was telling me how much of a horrible bastard I was, and that he hoped I would rot. And he mentioned me blowing up Peter.

"And- I never really knew if I'd been blamed for that, until that night. I didn't get a trial or anything, so I didn't know the charges. And he told me about the finger that had been found. And then it all made sense. Peter was a coward, not even brave enough to kill himself. Instead, he had killed other people, and run away. And I remembered the rat. As the Aurors started Apparating all around me, I saw it climb over someone's bloody corpse, and I saw him go into the sewer. And I do remember thinking... Pettigrew, but I was so gone from reality. And that night, it finally all made sense."

Remus was still not looking at Sirius. Dumbledore was, however, and his expression gave Sirius hope. Before anyone could say anything, a tapping noise was heard. Remus opened the window to allow what turned out to be an owl into the room. Fudge looked at it, expectantly, but it flew to Dumbledore instead.

It landed on Fudge's desk, and stretched its leg out to Dumbledore. It was a beautiful dark owl, obviously expensive. One that Sirius was sure he had seen before.

Dumbledore released it of its letter, and it flew off gracefully. Remus closed the window again, and Dumbledore unrolled the parchment. He read it quickly, and a frown soon formed on his face.

"I think it best we settle this now, Cornelius, it seems I have business at Hogwarts." Dumbledore seemed rather agitated.

"What is it, Dumbledore?" Fudge asked, holding his hand out for the letter. Dumbledore handed it to him, and the minister also read it. He paled and looked up at Dumbledore. "What exactly does this mean?" he asked angrily.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I have no idea either, Cornelius. But I am not prepared to ignore it and suffer the consequences later, if it turns out to be true."

Sirius frowned and grabbed the discarded parchment from the desk. "May I?"

Before anyone could answer, he picked it up and read it. Instead of it being a letter as he had been expecting, it was a simple note.

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_I strongly recommend keeping careful watch of the Hogwarts grounds from tonight on, especially the depths of the forest. And guard Harry Potter well, if he is already in your custody, as I hope he is._

Sirius looked up. "Who is this from?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't know. And it is untraceable."

Before anyone could say anything, another owl was at the window. Remus opened it, and allowed this second one to enter. It dropped the paper it was carrying on the desk, in front of Dumbledore, and flew out the window, never landing once. Dumbledore's expression worsened as he read it. He passed it to Fudge who read it and looked relieved. Sirius grabbed it as Fudge said, "It must be a joke, and nothing more. It makes no sense otherwise."

"It makes more sense than you realize, Cornelius."

Sirius ignored their conversation and read the note himself.

_Professor,_

_The Riddle House may be occupied soon._

Sirius handed it to Remus, who had barely finished reading the first note. Fudge was actually right; it made no sense.

"Do you not remember the importance of the Riddle house, Cornelius?" Dumbledore was saying.

"I do remember what you mentioned to me once, of course, but it can hardly be true."

"It is true, Cornelius. I know it for a fact."

"How could you know such a thing?" Fudge sputtered.

"Because I taught Tom Riddle."

Sirius had no idea what they were talking about, and Remus looked equally confused.

Fudge shook his head. "There is absolutely nothing to suggest that Tom Riddle and You-Know-Who are the same person."

"Well, Cornelius, I'm sure you're acting as you see best. But it would not hurt to send a few Aurors, perhaps? You may call me old, Cornelius, but such coincidences make me uneasy," Dumbledore answered patiently. He made no effort to explain to the other two men in the room what was happening.

"Well, we can do that, I suppose. Let's get Black's sentencing out of the way, then."

"Sentencing?" Sirius asked, panicked.

"I think, Cornelius, what we have heard tonight is enough to warrant a trial. If we can just find proper accommodations for him until his trial, we can set the date later, after we have taken care of other, more urgent matters," Dumbledore explained meaningfully.

"Accommodations?"

"He can stay at my house," Remus answered unexpectedly. Everyone looked at him, except Fudge, who waved the suggestion away.

"Impossible. Highly unusual, and not something we could consider even if we were to send Aurors, and perhaps even a Dementor as reinforcements."

"I would not object. Except, of course, for the Dementor," Remus answered calmly, "I'm merely volunteering my place of residence as a good option."

"No, I will not risk losing Black again. We have containment rooms here, of course, but they are not equipped to hold prisoners for long periods of time-"

"Cornelius, we must make haste, and we have no choice for now. We might have to send him back to Azkaban, but that will never do. The Dementors will not stand for him to stay alive much longer, after what happened. Remus Lupin will undoubtedly lend us a hand and consent to stay with the guards." Dumbledore was choosing his words carefully, Sirius could tell. Making Fudge believe he was truly making the decisions himself.

"Of course… we can leave him in the lower levels of the Ministry for now. I'll give the order. Perhaps..." Fudge trailed off as he walked out of the room, seeming slightly dazed. Dumbledore followed suit, turning to Sirius at the last minute. "The Aurors will be here shortly. Remus, after Sirius is safely downstairs, I want you to go back to Petunia Dursley's house with Harry. An Auror will accompany you both. Stay there for the night, if you can. I know they will not appreciate the extra precaution, but it is for safety's sake."

Remus nodded, and Dumbledore left the room. Sirius finally risked a glance at Remus, who was standing in front of the window, facing away from him. It almost seemed he had forgotten Sirius' presence, until he spoke. "You are going to tell me everything that happened that night, and since, Black."


	16. A Confused Rat and A Threat

Harry sat in a waiting room outside the office where Charlie, Lupin, Dumbledore, and the man with the hat had been talking. There were two men sitting across from him. They both kept looking at him, especially at his forehead, and it was starting to make him uneasy. Once or twice one of them would lean towards the other one and whisper something, and the other man would respond. Then they would look at him again, with those odd looks on their faces.

After sitting there for a while, with nothing to do other than swing his feet and trying to see if they could reach the bottom, he heard the door to the room open. The man with the hat (who Harry vaguely remembered as being Mr. Fudge) came out first, followed by the old man. Fudge kept walking, but Dumbledore stopped to talk to the two men watching Harry. After a moment's conversation with them, he walked over to Harry.

"Have you been bored, Harry?"

"A little," Harry admitted.

"Well, I have good news. Remus should be done here shortly. If you will wait for him a little longer, he is merely having a few words with Charlie. After they are finished, Remus will accompany back to your aunt's house. It is late, after all, and I am sure you are longing for your warm bed by now."

Harry opened his mouth to correct him, but thought better and instead asked, "Is Charlie coming with us?"

"No, I am afraid not, Charlie is staying here. Remember what I told you, Harry. It may be best if you forget about Charlie altogether."

Harry shook his head. The old man just did not understand. "Charlie is my friend. He likes me."

Harry thought Dumbledore was smiling, but it was hard to tell because he looked sad at the same time. "Perhaps you will be seeing Charlie in the future," said Dumbledore, "but nothing is certain at this point. I will try my best to make sure you do not have to lose your friend."

"Well, why can't I just stay here? With them?" Harry asked.

"Because you will be better off at your aunt Petunia's house. Don't worry, Remus will go visit your aunt later, and perhaps you can see him then."

Harry nodded for a second and then stopped. "Can I ask you one more question?"

"Of course."

"When will we know if Matt really did all that stuff the other man said he did?"

Again, Dumbledore looked at Harry in that way that he did not like. "I am afraid that Matthew Reid really is not who you thought, Harry. He is guilty of many of the things that he is accused of, and among them is working for the man who killed your parents. Colin Grant, the man who told you all this, has been found. He is in the hospital, but he is going to be fine."

Harry's eyes lit up. "So Matt didn't hurt him."

Dumbledore looked at Harry but did not reply. Finally smiled at Harry mysteriously and said, "I think it would be best if we had this conversation another day, Harry. I have over things I must attend to now, but I will answer all of your questions in due time."

Harry was less than pleased by this answer, but he merely nodded.

Dumbledore smiled and gave Harry a pat on the head. "Don't worry, Harry, everything will turn out."

Harry nodded again and watched Dumbledore walk off.

~.~.~

~.~.~

"I've told you everything," Sirius repeated.

"I don't buy your story, Black. And if I offered to stay here while they made the arrangements to take you downstairs, it wasn't so we could sit and chat and relive old times," Remus bit out.

Sirius stared at his old friend and had to choke back the bitterness he suddenly felt. "I've told you and Dumbledore everything I know, and I explained to you exactly what happened. Something's going on, Remus! Something is happening, and we don't know what it is, or how to stop it. And you know it concerns Harry!"

Remus took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "Dumbledore will handle it," Remus said evenly.

"Like he did last time?" Sirius bellowed.

Remus began to pace and tried to ignore Black's argument, but he found it almost impossible to do so. He could not ignore the seriousness of the situation. It seemed they had finally found Harry, but they could only guess at what his captors had planned for him. The two ominous messages the headmaster had received had troubled him greatly; that was obvious.

Finally, Remus said, "I'm sure Dumbledore has a much better idea that you do, Black."

"Harry isn't safe with those muggles."

"You can't expect Dumbledore to trust you with every last detail of his plan, or even to trust you at all," Lupin said coldly. "I am positive that Dumbledore wouldn't send Harry to his aunt's house if he had not already made arrangements to ensure the boy's safety."

"The boy?" Sirius stormed, "That boy is Lily and James' son!"

"Enough!" Remus shook his head and slowly backed away from Sirius. "That's enough! _Silencio_!"

Sirius struggled momentarily against the bonds Remus had conjured after they had been left alone before giving Remus a look of utter disgust. He shook his head disapprovingly and then lowered it, refusing to look at him any longer.

Remus knew Sirius was furious with him, and it made him uneasy. In fact, though Remus was loath to admit it, there was a small part of him that still craved Sirius' approval and friendship. He had to believe Sirius was lying; it was the only way to stop himself from giving in to the hope that Sirius might be innocent.

Remus shook his head, trying to dispel the flurry of thoughts swirling around his mind. "Harry will be fine."

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

After what felt like a long time to Harry, a small paper airplane flew to one of the men sitting across from him. He opened it up and seemed to read it before showing it to his partner. The other man nodded and they both got up and walked to the door of the office.

The smaller man gave two hard knocks on the door and said, "They're ready for you."

The door opened almost immediately and Charlie walked out of the room with Lupin. Charlie looked at Harry, and started to walk toward him, but the two men, who had been standing on either side of the door, intercepted him immediately. Charlie scowled at the two men who stood on either side of him, not letting him pass.

Confused, Harry walked over to Charlie instead and tugged at the robes he was wearing. "Hi, Charlie."

Lupin looked at the other two men and said, "Dumbledore and the Minister left very specific instructions for me. May I have a word with you about the prisoner's arrangements?"

The bigger man let go of Charlie and joined Lupin immediately, but the shorter one stepped away reluctantly and did not take his eyes off of them.

Charlie, however, looked unconcerned. He smiled at Harry, kneeling down on the floor, and patted Harry on the head. "Harry. How are you feeling?"

Harry nodded. "Good, Charlie. Dumbledore says I don't have parents, but he found me an aunt."

Charlie smiled, though Harry could tell he seemed sad.

"You know, can I ask you a favour, Harry?"

Harry smiled again. "Okay."

"Can you call me Sirius?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up, so Charlie (or was it Sirius, then?) continued, "I don't really like the name Charlie, it's rather boring, don't you think? My name is Sirius, and I rather like it better than Charlie."

"Oh," Harry said, smiling, "well that's okay, Sirius. But why'd you say you were Charlie if you don't like Charlie?"

Sirius smiled, but his eyes still looked kind of sad, "Well, I wanted to try being called Charlie. But I hate it now," Sirius reassured him.

Harry nodded. "I like Harry, but I can imagine if I didn't like it, I would use James instead. That's my name too, you know. And Potter. I have three."

Sirius made an odd noise and lowered his head, covering his face with his hand.

Afraid that he had said something to upset him, Harry quickly added, "But Sirius is a _really_ nice name too. I like it a lot, really."

Harry thought he heard Sirius laugh as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve and looked up again.

"Thank you, Harry. How do you like living with your aunt? Is she nice?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but he thought better of it and shrugged instead. He did not want Charlie to think he was ungrateful after everything he had done to help him find his family. "I like her house." That was technically not a lie, because his aunt's house was always clean and full of flowers and pretty stuff Harry was not allowed to touch.

"Harry, I wanted to tell you that-" Sirius began.

"...you have done a great job handling everything that has happened, Harry," Lupin interrupted. Sirius put his head down as he noticed that Lupin was standing next to them and giving Sirius one of those looks that made Harry think he was in trouble.

Harry knew that something that he did not understand was going on between the two of them, but he was afraid to ask. Instead, he put his hand on Sirius' shoulder.

Sirius looked up at him and smiled. "Yes, like Remus said. You've been great."

Lupin put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm afraid it's time for me to take you home." Lupin spoke softly.

Sirius stood up and nodded, so Lupin continued, "Charlie-"

"Sirius," Harry interrupted, "he wants to be Sirius."

Lupin looked surprised, and Harry suddenly felt guilty, until he saw Sirius was smiling.

"Okay, well, _Sirius_ is going to be staying here, and Lester will be coming up shortly to take us back to your aunt's house," Lupin said.

Harry did not have time to ask any questions and just then the hallway door opened to reveal the large dark man that had picked Harry up from Lupin's house so many days before.

"Ready, Remus?" asked Lester.

Lupin nodded and Lester stepped forward, grabbing Harry by the hand and leading him out, with Lupin not far behind.

"Bye, Sirius!" Harry yelled out, as soon as he realized what was happening.

One of the other men whose name Harry did not know was holding Sirius' hands behind his back. Sirius tried to step forward, but he was pulled back so he merely smiled back.

. ~ . ~ .

. ~ . ~ .

"I won't have it! Not only do you barge into my house in the middle of the night to bring _him_ back, now you expect me to let you stay on my property and let you do God-knows-what? I absolutely refuse-"

"Mr. Dursley," Lester interrupted him, "there is absolutely no doubt that we will be staying in the vicinity to guard Mr. Potter and your family. We were merely asking for you to accommodate one of our men inside the house for the night, to better ensure your safety.

The horsey looking woman, Harry's aunt, looked horrified and her husband had reached an odd shade of magenta.

"Accomo- Why, I… the deplorable state…. _Absolutely not_! You can't simply waltz in here and tell me you are going to be trespassing on my property. You are violating our rights and I will not stand-"

"Vernon!" his wife whispered. She leaned in and said to her husband, "Maybe… if there's one of _them_ in here, maybe the ones outside will leave and the neighbours won't see-"

"But Petunia!"

The woman turned to Lester. "Where is the old man? If you're leaving people here to watch the boy, it must mean that we are in danger keeping him here!"

"Exactly!" screamed Dursley triumphantly. "Maybe it's best if you take the boy altogether! I refuse to jeopardize my family for some freak that-"

Lester stood up, wand pointed directly at Vernon. "Would you like to reconsider that statement, Mr. Dursley?"

The large man merely sputtered with rage and stared at Lester, putting his arm out as if to protect his wife. Lester checked his temper and lowered his wand. It was not worth it, he told himself. Harry Potter may not be with these muggles for long, if what the Minister had told him was true.

Vernon Dursley's chest swelled up. "I am going to ask you to leave, now, and you can take the boy with you!"

They just did not understand. Drastic times called for drastic measures.

Lester cleared his throat. "Mr. Dursley, aren't you in the middle of negotiating a very large and profitable contract for your employer? I seem to recall Professor Dumbledore mentioning it."

"What's it to you?" Dursley growled.

"Well, I was just thinking it would be a shame for something to go wrong. It often happens in the business world, you know. People change their minds so suddenly… it's almost like magic. The loss of that client would not sit well with your firm, and I wager they might even find they promoted you too soon."

Petunia Dursley became ghostly white, contrasting heavily with her husband's newly achieved maroon.

"Well," Lester said as pleasantly as he could manage, "I'm glad that's settled. I'll just have a word with Harry before I leave."

Lester had a nasty suspicion that there was something seriously wrong with the Dursley family, and that they were not treating the boy as they should. Aside from him being _the_ Harry Potter, he was only a child, one who had come from who knew what kind of environment. The boy needed stability, and care.

It had been very apparent to Lester that he would likely not receive it in that home. When Lester had told Harry that he needed a word alone with his aunt and uncle and sent him to his room, the boy had walked over to a small door under the stairs that Lester was positive was a cupboard. His aunt had quickly gotten up and led Harry to another room in the back of the house, snapping at him about how he must learn his way around the house.

Lester knocked on the bedroom door, well aware that the Dursleys were watching him from the end of the hall.

"Come in," answered the small voice.

Lester opened the door slowly to find Harry sitting on the bed, looking very uncomfortable. There were no signs that a small boy lived there. On the contrary, the decorations were feminine and the mattress had no bedding, only an old sheet to protect it from dust.

Lester looked back at the nervous aunt and her twitchy-eyed husband.

"I have to go now, Harry. But remember what I told you. If you need _anything_, what are you supposed to do?"

Harry thought back. "I'm supposed to… knock on the kitchen window?"

"That's right. Take care, Harry."

The boy nodded and waved goodbye, and Lester knew there was nothing he could do to help him. He no longer bothered with being polite to the muggles, who were obviously the worst kind of people; everything wizards disliked in non-magic folk.

As Lester neared the doorway the woman stepped forward, away from her husband.

"We had no idea he was coming to live here," she said defensively, "and we did not have time to fix up the guest bedroom for him. We were going to do it this weekend."

Lester merely rolled his eyes and said, "Good, I hear he likes motorcycles."

After Lester exited the Dursley house, he was greeted by the sight of Remus Lupin arguing with one of the Aurors setting up camp in the lawn.

"But who will be staying inside with Harry?" Lester heard Remus ask.

"I'm afraid Mrs. Dursley and her husband were adamant that they did not want anyone to stay inside the house," Lester spoke from behind, "therefore we… _agreed_ that our people would camp outside and we'd place some muggle repellent charms so as to not arouse suspicion."

Remus looked unconvinced. "Even so, someone should stay inside with Harry. His safety is our priority-"

"They won't budge, but Harry will be very well protected anyway. Apparition is disabled; we have wards strong enough to detect so much as a bloody squirrel looking through the window. And we will have two men out here on guard. The only thing he is in danger of is his family's thick-headedness."

Remus frowned. "I'm not at all convinced that this is the best place for Harry to be."

"I won't lie to you. I'm fairly sure he is not all that happy to be with his new family, but I have to follow orders. I told the kid to tap on the kitchen window if he needed anything. I set up a simple charm on the window last time. If he taps on it, the vibration will trigger an alarm on my pocket watch."

Remus sighed, and Lester knew why. Something did not feel right.

~.~.~

~.~.~

Lucius had returned to his house quite late to find Crabbe and Hastings gone, and Pettigrew nowhere to be found. Moreover, his wife already asleep and could offer no answers. He left his elf with strict orders to warn him if any of the three missing men came back and went to his study to spend a good portion of the night pacing.

Less than an hour after his arrival, the door to his study opened to reveal Peter Pettigrew, being dragged in by his house elf.

"Dobby has found him, Master!"

"Where have you been, Pettigrew?" Lucius growled, pushing the elf away and shutting the door as he pulled Pettigrew into the room.

"O-out, Lucius, trying to find you. Crabbe sent me to tell you that they know where Potter is. That is to say- they're going to know soon."

"What are you talking about?"

"A source- at the Ministry- they found the boy. I had to go find you to tell you that we were trying to find out all the details."

"How did you know that Potter was missing?" Lucius asked suspiciously, "I only recently found out myself."

"I- t-the source. We knew something had to have gone wrong."

"I did not confide the full aspects of my plan to anyone… Why did Crabbe sent you, rather than seek me out himself, or wait until I returned?"

"It was u-urgent. Goyle sent an owl. They are delayed, but they will be here, maybe tomorrow night."

Lucius cursed. He hated delays, although this one might give him a chance to find Potter and spare himself his master's wrath if Pettigrew was right about the Ministry having found the boy. "Where is the letter, then? What else did it say?"

"I… don't know. He must have taken it with him."

"Well, where _is_ Crabbe? And Hastings, for that matter?"

Pettigrew's eyes glossed over for a moment as he thought about it. The man was a complete idiot, if Lucius ever saw one. "I… don't know."

"Who was the source at the Ministry, and how exactly are we to find Potter's location?"

"Crabbe said- we sent out our best Legilimens to find out. He is supposed to be at the house of his relatives. But they're muggles, so we can take him there."

Crabbe, apparently, was showing a presence of mind that Lucius was sure was unprecedented in that man. But how had so much happened during his absence? And who among their depleted ranks was skilled in Legilimency?

"Who are these muggles, and how will we know where to find them?"

Pettigrew seemed to be at a loss once more, so Lucius continued. "Are you even sure this information is correct?"

Pettigrew nodded. "Yes."

"Well, if you're so sure then you will not have a problem if I entrust his retrieval to you."

"I thought maybe you would say that. The Dark Lord will be p-proud. But who will go with me, to help?"

Lucius smiled nastily. "I rather think you can handle it all on your own."

Pettigrew's face fell. "Now- Lucius! The b-boy will be easy, but this is very important. We should-to be sure- we need more men!"

"On the contrary, we need your unique talents. You should be able to do it yourself, after all you thought yourself capable of outsmarting us today. You meant to run away, and you know what the Dark Lord does to those who betray him, do you not? This is your last chance, Pettigrew. Bring me Potter, and I may still let you participate in our master's glorious return. But my kindness does have a limit. One mistake and you will not live to see the Dark Lord."

"I-I didn't mean to run, Lucius. I swear it! I panicked and knew if I transformed, they wouldn't see me-"

"_Enough_. Bring me Potter, or don't come back at all. And in that case, you had better hide well, because the Dark Lord _will_ find you."

Peter nodded, "I'm only saying, Lucius, the house will be protected. Our source said there would be Aurors inside the house guarding him. How do you expect-"

Lucius smiled coldly. "I don't."


End file.
